A MAN IN THE MIDST OF DANGERS
The Pasha of Janina, for thirty successive days, received nothing but
ill tidings; and twice within the period of two waxing moons did his
own power as steadily wane.
The first Job's-messenger which reached him was the Arnaut horseman,
who had escaped from Stambul, and whom the Sultan's Tartars had
pursued as far as Adrianople. This man told him that the attempt on
the life of Gaskho Bey had failed, and that the captured assassins had
revealed the name of their employer.
"Behold, I have wounded myself with my own sword," exclaimed Ali. "The
prophetic voice of Seleucia spoke the truth; yea, verily, it spoke the
truth."
And still more of the prophecy was to be accomplished.
A few days later the report reached him that Eminah had cast herself
at the feet of the Sultan and demanded judgment on the head of her
husband.
"I knew it beforehand," sighed Ali. "The Prophet told it all to me.
Nevertheless, I shall stand at the gates of the Seraglio on a silver
pedestal."
Next day he heard that Gaskho Bey had been appointed Pasha of Janina.
"They act as if I were dead already," murmured the veteran, with as
bitter a feeling as if he already saw his youthful supplanter standing
on his threshold. "They bury me before I am dead, they divide my
property before I have made my will. Nevertheless, one day I shall
stand in the gates of the Seraglio on a richer pedestal."
And with that Tepelenti sent forth his ciauses to all the towns within
his domains, and to all the local governors, commanding all who had
sons to send their sons and all who had brothers to send their
brothers to him without delay. Then he ordered that every beast of
burden that could be spared should be driven into the mountains, and
that every barque they could lay their hands upon should be brought
from the sea-coast into the Gulf of Durazzo. The arsenal of Janina
bristled with terrific rows of cannons and bombs, and the commanders
of the various army corps received instructions to concentrate their
forces under the walls of Janina. At any rate, he was determined not
to be taken unawares. At least, he would have time to unfurl the red
flag before the dread message arrived from Stambul that the Padishah
demanded his head.
Ah, ha! Ali Tepelenti would not surrender his gray beard so easily.
The hunters shall find out what manner of lion they are pursuing. A
firman of the Grand Signior nominated the banished Pehliván Pasha,
Lord of Lepanto; Sulaiman Pasha was made Governor of Trikala, and the
two mountain passes guarding it; Muhammad Bey, whose father Ali had
slain, was proclaimed Lieutenant-General of Durazzo. Thus they had
divided his territories beforehand among his most bitter and most
dangerous enemies. Ah! this will, indeed, be a magnificent chase.
Ali called together his sons, of whom Vely was Lord of Lepanto,
Sulaiman of Trikala, and Mukhtar Pasha of Durazzo. He showed them on
the map where their territories lay, and pointed out that if they lost
them they would have nothing left. Let all three of them, therefore,
gird upon their thighs the swords he intrusted to them and fight like
men. The two younger sons swore fervently that they would conquer
Fortune with their weapons, but Vely Bey preserved a gloomy silence.
"Art thou not my son?" asked the veteran.
"Allah hath so willed it," answered Vely, "and I also will fight, not
for thee but for myself, not for life nor for what is on the other
side of death, but because I have a little child in Lepanto, and the
enemy is besieging that fortress. That little child is all the world
to me. I will fight as only a father can fight for his son. I will
rescue him if possible. Thy glory or thy ruin is alike indifferent to
me. If the report reach thee that the enemy hath taken Lepanto and
slain my son, then count no more upon the sword which thou hast
intrusted to me."
And with these words Vely turned his back on his father and softly
withdrew.
As Ali saw his son quietly pass before him, it occurred to him whether
it would not be as well to draw his pistol from his belt and shoot
down the waverer before he quitted Janina. It is true that he had
known all this beforehand. His own wife, his own sons, his own
weapons, were to turn against him; but then, on the other hand, was
he not to stand at the gate of the Seraglio on a silver pedestal?
A host of more than twenty thousand men stood under arms at his
disposal, Albanians and Suliotes. A gallant host, if only it would
fight. But for whom would it fight?--for him or for the Sultan? And
these soldiers, when they saw him besieged, would they forget their
murdered kinsfolk, their plundered fields, their burned villages? Did
not every man of them know that Ali Tepelenti had been amassing
treasures all his life, but had never troubled himself about good
deeds? And now these treasures would surely be his ruin.
Time brought the answer. While his enemies were still afar off, the
Suliotes arose, under the leadership of a girl among the mountains of
Bracori, where one of Ali's grandsons, Zaid, was recruiting soldiers,
and massacred Ali's men to the very last one. The last one, however,
they suffered to escape and convey to Ali Zaid's severed head, at the
same time informing him that it was sent by that girl the head of
whose betrothed he had cut off before her very eyes, and she meant to
send him still more.
This was the Greek's declaration of war. There at Janina, under his
very nose, the Greek captain, Zunga, deserted the Albanian camp, and
when the Grand Signior's army reached Trikala, and Gaskho Bey's herald
galloped between the two armies with the imperial firman hanging round
his neck, and summoned the vassals to take up arms against the Pasha,
the whole camp went over to Gaskho Bey. Alone, without the smallest
escort, Sulaiman, Ali Pasha's youngest son, fled without having had
the opportunity of testing his father's sword, and they captured him
on the road.
Still he had the other two. Mukhtar Bey, with a powerful fleet, lay in
the Gulf of Durazzo, and Vely Bey, wroth though he might be with his
father, was a valiant warrior, and his son was in Lepanto, and save
him he must and would.
But not only his son, some one else was there also. On that cruel,
murderous day when Ali Pasha drowned the harems of his sons in the
lake, one person among so many escaped, and this was Xelianthé. The
damsel loved Vely as much as he loved her, and contrived to let him
know that she was alive. Vely Bey sent her to Lepanto, and kept her in
hiding there with his little son in order that she might be far from
his father.
And now the bey himself hastened to Lepanto, arrived at night in the
neighborhood of the town, and perceived already from afar that the
citadel in which he had concealed his darlings was in flames.
What if he had arrived too late!
With the fury of a savage wild tiger he flung himself upon the
besieging Pehliván, and in a midnight battle routed him beneath the
walls of Lepanto, the Albanians fighting desperately by the side of
their leader. But what was the use of it? The fortress was saved,
indeed, but it was already in flames. Vely, roaring with grief and
pain, flung himself on the gate, scarcely recognizing again the place
he had quitted so short a time ago.
He reached the pavilion where he had concealed his wife and child. It
was built entirely of wood, except the roof, which was of copper. A
curious mass of molten dark-red metal gleamed among the fire-brands.
Vely rushed bellowing to the spot, and his soldiers, tearing aside the
charred beams and rafters, came upon two skeletons burned to cinders.
A coral necklace lying there, which the fire had been unable to
calcine, told him that these were the remains of his wife and son.
Not a word did Vely say to a living soul; but he plunged his sword
into its sheath, and that same night he rode unarmed into the camp of
the discomfited Pehliván Pasha and surrendered himself to the enemy.
His army, utterly demoralized, immediately fled back to Janina,
bringing the tidings to his father that Vely Bey, immediately after
his victory, had surrendered of his own accord to the Sultan.
So every one abandoned Ali. His cities opened their gates to his
enemies, his best friends betrayed, his two sons forsook, him. Still
the third son remained. And Mukhtar Bay was the best man of the three.
He was the bravest, and he loved his father the best.
Two days later came the tidings that Mukhtar Bey with his whole fleet
had surrendered before Durazzo to the Kapudan Pasha.
"The soothsayer foretold it all to me," said Ali, calmly, when the
news was brought to him. "So it was written beforehand in heaven.
Nevertheless, at the last, I shall stand at the gates of the Seraglio
on a silver pedestal!"