THE WHIRLING FIRE
“A word from Hans had carried us from the house, but the great measure
of his news we had while we drew our cloaks about us, and armed
ourselves with the guns which stood always in the hall of the château.
“‘God of Heaven! that I did not tell her!’ gasped the trembling
steward. ‘She set off an hour ago to wait for my master in the park.
I never thought that she would pass the gates--how should I?--but now
comes the news that she is on the Jajce road! May the day be black that
sends me with such tidings to my master!’
“You, excellency, who are a stranger to the mountain land about Jajce,
may well know nothing of the meaning of such words as these; yet to
us, fed from our childhood on knowledge of the woods, the message of
Hans was like tidings of death itself. Even the peasants in their
numbers scarce dare venture out upon the hills when the sun has set
and the howling of the wolves makes dismal music of the night. I, who
know the passes as I know these waters, would as soon cast myself down
from yonder _campanile_ as put horses to my sleigh when the light of
the sunshine is no longer upon the snow. For if I did so, then might
I look to leave my bones upon the road--to be torn limb from limb by
hungry beasts before the lamps of the village were lost to my view.
Christine was aware of no such dangers. She had heard tales in the
summer time of travellers who had been devoured in the desolate places
of the mountains by ravenous packs; of bridal parties whose wedding
journey had been a journey to the terrible death which the hills hold
in store for the reckless. But that peril should await her within a
stone’s throw of the Count’s park was a thing she had not dreamt of.
Eager to greet again the man who was more dear to her than anything in
the world, thinking to please him by meeting his sleigh when it was
yet some distance from the house, she had ventured beyond the gates,
and had disappeared at last down the road to Jajce. A peasant had
remonstrated with her almost at the lodge of the park; but, his tongue
being unknown to her, she had laughed at his gesticulations, and had
gone on--God knew to what peril or to what fate.
“You may be sure that tidings of all this were spread abroad very
quickly by the men of the Count’s household. So fast did the news run
that we found quite a little company at the gates of the park, the
grooms being come from their stables, the woodlanders from their huts.
Of these some had torches in their hands, for it was now full dark;
some carried sticks, some lanterns. It was agreed quickly, even above
the babble of the talk, that we should strike all together down the
road to Jajce; and we trusted that the flare of our torches and the
sound of our voices would help to keep danger from the path. In this
we were not disappointed, though we had not gone more than half a mile
from the house when the need for our journey was made manifest to us.
We could see by the moon’s light, which shone gloriously upon the
whitened hills, the creeping forms of packs upon the heights. From wood
to wood they skulked--scores, nay hundreds, of the famished beasts; and
their howling was like a very dirge of the dead. Mournfully, weirdly,
now with a ferocity which chilled the heart, now long-drawn as the
sighs of damned spirits, the haunting wail went up. That was a heavy
winter--a winter when the frost made the hills like domes of iron; when
the snow lay heavy and deep upon the grass; when the cattle died in
the fields and the bears came down even to the gardens of the houses.
It was a season when the wolf was to be found at the very gates of the
city: when the flesh was torn from the woodlanders’ bones as they sat
in their huts; a season spoken of now in hushed whispers, remembered by
a people born and bred to such perils.
“We could see the wolves skulking in the thickets, excellency, and we
drew the closer together at the sight, raising our voices and kindling
new torches. Yet so great was the hunger which the beasts suffered that
presently they became bolder, and began to collect in little groups at
the side of the path; while here and there one would leap out, snapping
his teeth and shewing us eyes which flashed red in the dim light. And
at this some of the grooms began to lose heart and to cry out that our
errand could end only in disaster to ourselves. Even the steward was
shaking with terror, and alternately reproaching himself and assuring
us that we were out on a fool’s business.
“‘Holy Saints,’ he would cry, ‘how they bark; it is like the howling of
souls in hell! Did you hear that, Father? The Virgin pray for us. Yet
what can we do? That I should go to the Count with such a tale! Think
you that she is on the Jajce road? God help her, then. Yet she might
as well have looked towards Jézero. Fool that I was to think of coming
abroad!’
“‘You speak well, Master Hans,’ cried one of the grooms; ‘this is no
errand for men with wives and children to look to them. Not that I am
afraid. Who says that lies. I never yet feared man or beast--the Lord
have mercy on my soul.’
“A loud amen followed the rogue’s words, and we went on a little
further, descending deeper into the gorge and the darkness of the
woods. Here the road was very lonely, the trees bridging it over with
their branches, and the mountains above seeming to be fleecy vapours
hanging in the dome of the heavens. We could hear the pursuing beasts
pattering in the thickets at our side, and they howled no longer--a
sure sign that they were making ready to spring out upon us. Presently
Hans, who was in the van of the company, stopped running altogether,
and stood crying to us to listen to him.
“‘One word,’ said he; ‘we are going too fast for Father Mark--I can
see it by his step--and this is no place to rest in. It is my advice
that we return to the park and then venture a little way down the road
to Jézero. Had she passed by here, surely we had overtaken her before
this.’
“‘Aye, truly,’ cried another; ‘I am with Master Hans. Go back, say I,
and try towards Jézero. It’s here that Gozzo, the shepherd, was torn
last year, with his horse. You don’t forget that, Father? Not that I am
afraid--who says that lies.’
“They stood now clamouring round the priest, who, be it said to his
credit, was the best man among them. I can see him in my mind now,
excellency, panting heavily for want of his breath, and raising his
stick to bring them to silence.
“‘Who goes back,’ he said presently, ‘him will I bring to account here
upon the spot. Louts! do you leave a woman in her peril? What tale will
you carry to your master? That I should call such carrion my children!
Go on, I say, or you shall feel my cudgel on your shoulders!’
“They were a little shamefaced at this, all hanging very closely
together, and cocking their guns in readiness to fire. Even I, to whom
the bark of a wolf is no more than the clatter of a pebble in a brook,
found some comfort in the fact that I stood at the priest’s side, and
was thus in the centre of the group. As for the pack in the thicket, it
had become bolder at our halt, and we could now see the brutes, some
snarling in the bushes at our side, some jumping before us from the
wood to the road, and again from the road to the wood, others dogging
our steps and waiting for that moment when one beast more bold than
the rest should spring to the attack and a hundred should follow him.
So closely did they press upon us at last that we formed a ring in the
centre of the path, and fired a rattling volley into them, a great
flame of fire lighting the black place of the thicket, and sending
them howling and rolling in the depths of the snow. Then, with another
loud shout, we ran on through the wood, and found ourselves, to our
infinite satisfaction, again upon the open road.
“You may imagine how, in all these trying moments, my thoughts had
turned upon Christine. If we, fifteen good men, with torches to light
us and guns in our hands, must press together to turn the peril from
our path, how, I asked, had it fared with an unarmed girl knowing
nothing of the peril or the road. One hope only I had, and it was
this--that Christine had passed through the wood while it was yet
daylight, and had taken shelter ultimately in the village lying between
the great house and Jajce. Yet I knew that this was unlikely; and it
was ever in my head that the child had perished already, and that we
must go to the Count with the story of her death in our mouths. Nor
could I imagine any man so bold that he should bear such news, though
it was my consolation that some other than myself must be the messenger.
“I was pluming myself upon this, and telling myself that I, at any
rate, should be excused, even if I lost hope of recompense for my care
of the child, when Father Mark of a sudden stopped us in our walk and
raised his hands warningly.
“‘Hush!’ said he; ‘I thought that I heard a woman’s cry!’
“We all listened with bent ears, but so loud was the howling of the
brutes about us that we caught no sound, and the priest spoke again.
“‘I am sure that I was not deceived,’ said he; ‘it was a cry that I
heard, and it came from the hamlet yonder.’”