THE AVENGER
And what now is old Ali Tepelenti about in his nest at Janina? Is he
content with a state of things which results in this--that he must
either perish or pass the brief remainder of his days in constant
fighting? Is he satisfied with this sea of blood over which the
tempest rages, and whose shores he cannot see?
Not yet has he surrendered to fate. His country has declared war
against him, the Sultan has pronounced his death-sentence, his family
have abandoned and turned against him; but Ali has not suffered his
sword to be broken in twain. For eight and seventy years he has been
the scourge of his enemies, the defence of his country, the Sultan's
right hand, the patriarch of his family, and in his nine and
seventieth year the Sultan and his relations say to him, "Die! thou
hast lived long enough!" And he, by way of reply, set his country in
flames, shook the throne of the Sultan, and extirpated his own
kinsfolk.
The Greeks, whose tyrant he once was, are now his allies. Tepelenti
provides them with arms and money, and with good and bad counsel,
whichever they want most.
Three armies were sent out against him, and he has annihilated all
these.
His enemy, Gaskho Bey, has lost his army in a battle against the
rebels without anything to show for it, and now only holds the
fortresses round about Janina, to wit: Arta, Prevesa, Lepanto,
Tripolizza, and La Gulia. The Hellenes are besieging every one of them
day by day. One day Ali proclaims that in Tripolizza there are five
hundred eminent Greeks whom the Turks compel to fight along with them.
At this report the besiegers attack the fortress with redoubled fury.
Now these five hundred Greeks Ali himself got together while
Tripolizza was still in his possession. When he was obliged to leave
the fortress, he cast these Greeks down into a well, placed three
loads of stones upon them, and covered the spot with grass. This he
did himself.
Exhausted by furiously fighting against superior numbers, the Turks
surrendered in three days to Kleon, who conducted the siege, simply
stipulating that they might be allowed to go free, and this was
promised them. When, however, the fortress was surrendered to the
Greeks, their first question was, "Where are the hostages, our
brethren?" The Turks were amazed. They knew not what to reply, for
they had no hostages in their hands.
Then a Suliote warrior discovered the pit which had been sown over
with grass, and what a sight presented itself when they broke it open!
Thirsting for blood and vengeance, the Greeks flung themselves
forthwith on the disarmed garrison, and despatched them to the very
last man, nay, they did not leave a living woman or child remaining
in the fortress--they threw them all down headlong from the bastions.
But Ali Pasha smiled to himself in the fortress of Janina.
He himself had destroyed more Turks than the whole Greek host had
done.
When Demetrius Yprilanti captured Lepanto, he allowed the garrison a
free exit from the citadel. Demetrius himself signed the terms of the
surrender. But when the Turks emerged from the fortress, Ali Pasha's
Suliotes rushed upon them and cut them all to pieces. Yprilanti, full
of indignation, threw himself in the midst of them, exhibiting the
document in which he had promised the Turks their lives. But Kleon
only laughed--he had learned that brutal, scornful laugh from Ali.
"Don't trouble yourself about them," cried he. "We are only killing
those whose names are not written in the agreement."
Yprilanti turned from the butchery in disgust, and immediately
embarking his army, set sail for Chios again.
Ah, the Greeks had learned a great deal from Ali. Woe to those
Mussulmans who fall alive into their hands, or who are not so brave or
so cunning as they themselves are! The Turkish general, Omar Vrione,
along his whole line of advance, marched between rows of high gibbets
on which bleached the bones of horribly tortured Turks. Here and
there, by way of variety, nailed by the hands to upright planks, were
the bodies of dead Jews, half flayed and singed--a ghastly spectacle.
Verily the descendants of the heroes of Marathon have diverged very
far indeed from their forefathers, and the experienced Turkish
commander knew right well that he is a bad soldier who even descends
to cutting off the head of his slain foe on the battle-field.
At Puló, Omar Vrione encountered the army of Odysseus. Now Omar was at
one time one of the best of Ali Pasha's lieutenants. Ali promoted him
to the rank of general, and he had begun life as a shepherd-boy. Ali
had taught him how to use his weapons, and now he turned them against
his master.
The Sultan had intrusted to him a fine army with which he had assisted
Gaskho Bey to beleaguer Ali. It consisted of eight thousand gallant
Asiatic infantry, two thousand Spahis, and eight guns. The leader of
the Spahis was Zaid, the Bey of Kastorid, Ali's favorite grandson,
whom, twenty years before, he had rocked upon his knee, and whom,
while still a child, he had carried in front of him on his saddle, and
taught him to ride. Zaid himself had asked, as a favor, that he might
lead a division of cavalry against his grandfather. He had promised
his mother to seize that sinful old head by its gray beard and bring
it home to her.
A precious grandson, truly!
So Omar Vrione reached Puló. Looking down from the hill-tops there, he
discerned the army of Odysseus. He saw him planting his white banners
in rows upon the heights, and without giving his forces a moment's
rest, he set his own martial chimneys a-smoking and attacked the
Greeks with all his might.
After an hour's combat, in which they fought man to man, the Greeks
were driven from their intrenchments, and began slowly descending into
the valley.
The Timariotes remained behind, and Zaid began to send forward his
Spahis to attack the retreating army in the rear. Odysseus slowly
retraced his steps till he came to Puló. There his war-path stopped.
His banner was no longer white, but red; it was sprinkled with the
blood of the many heroes who had died in its defence.
Suddenly, from the heights of Pindus above them resounded the
tempestuous melody of the "Marseillaise," which the Greeks had adopted
as their war-song, and rapid as a storm-swollen mountain torrent the
Suliotes, with Kleon and Artemis in the van, hurled themselves upon
the Turks.
Omar Vrione was caught between two fires. It was too late to turn
back, too late to reform his order of battle. His guns were useless,
his cavalry could not move forward, and his infantry columns were so
completely isolated that they could not render each other any
assistance.
The general saw that he could not save his army, but he was at least
determined not to save himself, so he hastened to where the fight was
raging most furiously.
A wild, merciless _mêlée_ was proceeding between the inextricably
intermingled foes. Forcing his way along, Omar Vrione suddenly
encountered, in the midst of reeking powder and streaming blood, a
tall youth with a blackened face, whom he at once recognized as Kleon.
There, then, they stood, face to face. Three years before, when Ali
had sent Omar Vrione to threaten the Suliotes, Kleon fled before him,
and then he had called after the fugitive, "Stand, I would send thy
head to Ali Tepelenti!"
And there, indeed, Omar Vrione fell, combating, and Kleon cut off his
head.
How strange is fate!
The fall of Omar Vrione sealed the fate of his army. The Turks fled
wherever they saw the chance, leaving all their guns, all their flags,
and all their officers in the lurch. The cavalry had no chance of
escaping. Half of it fell, the other half surrendered.
Zaid, in the moment of extremest danger, took his silver aigrette out
of his turban and threw it away; then he changed caftans with his
servant, and mingled with the rank-and-file, so that none might
recognize him. It would have been much better for a child like him to
have remained at home than to have gone hunting that old lion, his
aged grandfather.
The Suliotes surrounded Zaid's company. "Dismount from your horses!"
exclaimed the clear voice of Kleon.
The Spahis, full of shame, dismounted.
"Which is your leader, Zaid?" cried Kleon, advancing. The edge of his
sword was dripping with blood.
"I am," said the servant who had changed clothes with Zaid, and he
approached Kleon.
"Bow down before me, thou slave!" cried Kleon, kicking him.
The servant bowed his head before the victor, and he never raised it
again, for Kleon chopped it off with his bloody sword, and sticking it
on the point thereof, raised it on high and cried to his bloodthirsty
comrades: "Here is their second general, Zaid, who came to subdue us!
Hallelujah!" and the victorious host repeated after him, "Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!"
And then they stuck the heads of the two generals on the points of two
lances, and carried them through the streets of Puló in the sight of
the crowds of women and children on the housetops, bellowing, "We have
conquered! We have conquered! These are the heads of the enemy's
leaders: one of them is Omar Vrione, and the other is Zaid Bey! Kyrie
eleison?"
And what face was ever so pale as Zaid's when he heard his name called
out and saw how they mocked and jeered at the head they took for his?
The Suliotes returned to Janina with the captives and the emblems of
victory. Tepelenti, hearing that they had decapitated Zaid, went down
into the camp and demanded his head.
Kleon was sitting in front of his tent _en déshabille_. He was not
disposed to part with the symbol of victory, but wanted it to dazzle
the eyes of the host for some little time longer.
But Ali was ready at once with a good idea: "Cut off the head of
another prisoner," said he, "in its stead; none will notice the
difference."
Kleon acted upon the advice, and immediately sent forth his
men-at-arms to take the exhibited head to Ali. But Ali shook his own
head when he saw it, and wagging his finger at Kleon, he said: "Thou
art over-young, my son, to try and impose upon Ali. Thou wouldst turn
my counsel to my own hurt, and give me the head of another instead of
Zaid's!"
Kleon leaped to his feet. "Do you mean to say that is not Zaid's
head?"
"Of a truth it is not. Dost thou suppose I do not know the youth--I
who used to dandle him on my knee ever since he was a child, and was
the first to place a sword in his hand?"
"But, indeed, he himself told me," cried Kleon, pointing at the head,
"that he was Zaid, and he was wearing a general's uniform."
"'Tis a slave," said Tepelenti, regarding the head more closely. "Dost
thou not see? His ears have been cropped, so that he may not wear
ear-rings in them, which only great lords may do."
"Then Zaid has gone free!"
"Zaid will be among the captives," said Tepelenti. "I would recognize
him amongst a thousand. He was my favorite grandson. His image even
now is engraved in my heart."
Then they went down amongst the captives. Ali had scarce cast a glance
at them when he pointed with his finger.
"There he is! Dost thou not perceive how much paler his face is than
the faces of the others?"
Kleon wrathfully drew his sword and would have rushed upon the person
indicated, but Ali held his hand.
"What doest thou? Wouldst thou slay my grandson before my very eyes?"
"Thou didst ask for his head, and it shall be thine."
"But now I ask for his life, Kleon. Zaid is my favorite grandson. I
brought him up. I loved him better than his dear mother--better than
all my children. Look now, I share with thee all the booty, and all I
ask of thee is mine own--flesh of my flesh."
The unhappy youth, hearing these words, fell at Ali's feet and
embraced his knees, wept, covered his hands with kisses, and implored
him to release him--he would be a good and dutiful son to him ever
afterwards.
"Thou seest, too, how much he loves me," said Ali, looking with
tearful eyes at Zaid and covering the cowering fugitive with his long
gray beard. "Well, Zaid," said he, "so thou dost now fly for refuge
beneath the shadow of that same gray beard, by grasping which thou
wert minded to take Ali's head to thy mother, eh?"
Kleon looked at Ali Pasha with a contemptuous smile. Then Ali was
tender, Ali had a heart, Ali's heart ached at the slaying of his
kinsfolk! The Greek felt a cruel satisfaction in tormenting the pasha.
"If thou dost not wish to see Zaid die," said he, "depart from hence.
Alive thou shalt not have him!"
"What!" cried Ali, and, standing erect, he drew his sword. "Because my
beard is long dost thou think thou canst trample upon me? I will
defend my blood with my blood, and will perish myself rather than let
him be slain. Let us see, mad youth, wouldst thou lop off thine own
right hand?"
Kleon was so surprised that he did not know what to do. It was in his
power to slay Ali; but then that would be a greater triumph for
Stambul than all the victories of the campaign.
At that moment a herald arrived from Odysseus with a command for Kleon
to send all the Turkish officers captured at the battle of Puló to
Prevesa, that they might be exchanged against the youths of the
sacred army who had been captured in Moldavia.
Kleon's pride was wounded by this direct command. He considered
himself just as good a general as Odysseus or Yprilanti, and did not
recognize orders sent from them.
Turning from the herald to Tepelenti, he thus replied:
"Tell Odysseus that I and my soldiers are in the habit of killing the
enemy's officers on the battle-field. Only one of them, and he in
disguise, remains. He, however, is Tepelenti's grandson, who has
recognized him and ransomed him from me for a hundred thousand
piastres, which he has engaged to pay me within an hour. Is it not so,
Tepelenti?"
"It is so," said Ali; "within an hour the hundred thousand piastres
shall be in thy hands."
Zaid, with a shriek of joy, kissed the hem of his grandfather's robe,
and Kleon gave his hand upon the bargain. An hour later the money
arrived in little hogsheads, and he had it weighed in the presence of
his captains. Ali, however, binding his grandson by the left arm, and
giving him his own caftan, had him conducted into the fortress of
Janina.
Kleon looked contemptuously after him. So the old man had become
soft-hearted! How he had wept and supplicated and paid for this youth,
who was his favorite grandson!
An hour later the roll of drums was heard on the bastions of Janina,
and when the Greeks looked in that direction they saw the stake of
execution erected there. Four black executioners were carrying Zaid,
who had his hands tied behind his back, and was wearing the self-same
caftan which Ali had given him. Ali himself, mounted on a black horse,
rode right up to the stake. At a signal from him the executioners
hoisted Zaid into the air, and a moment later Tepelenti's favorite
grandson, whom he had dandled so often on his knee, was done to death
by the most excruciating torments!
Ali watched his death-agony with the utmost _sang-froid_, and, when
all was over, he shouted down from the bastions with a strong, firm
voice, "So perish all those of Tepelenti's kinsfolk who draw the sword
against him! For them there is no mercy!"
Kleon felt his heart's blood grow cold. Ah! he had much, very much to
learn from the agonized cries of the dying before he could overtake
Ali, that old man who weeps, prays, and pays, in order to rescue his
favorite grandson for the sole purpose of killing him himself with
refined tortures!
Of all Ali's large family only two sons now remained, Sulaiman and
Mukhtar. They were the first who had betrayed their father, and it was
their treachery that had wounded him most. For a whole year Ali
carried that wound about in his heart. During that time nobody was
allowed to mention the names of his sons in his presence. Everything,
absolutely everything, which reminded him of them was removed from the
fortress. If any one was weary of life, he had only to mention the
name of Mukhtar before Ali, and death was a certainty.
Meanwhile the two apostate sons were living in great misery at
Adrianople; for the Sultan, though he paid them for their treachery,
would have nothing more to do with them. The first instalment of the
money which they were to receive as the price of their father's blood
melted away very rapidly in merry banquets, pretty female slaves, fine
steeds, and precious gems; and when it was all gone the second
instalment never made its appearance. Far different and far more
important personages had still stronger claims upon the Sultan's
purse. Tepelenti's vigorous resistance, the innumerable losses
suffered by the Sultan's armies, buried in forgetfulness the services
of the good sons whose betrayal of their father had profited the
Sultan nothing. They were already beginning to bitterly repent their
overhasty step when the rumor of Ali's victories reached them; and as
the days of necessity began to weigh heavily upon them, as money and
wine began to fail them, as they found themselves obliged to sell, one
by one, their horses, their jewels, and, at last, even their beautiful
slave-girls, it became quite plain to them that no help could be
looked for from any quarter, unless perhaps it was from wonder-working
fairies, or from the genii of the _Thousand and One Nights_.
But let none say that, in the regions of the merry Orient, fairies and
wonders do not still make their home among men.
Just when the beys had consumed the price of the last slave they had
to sell, such wealth poured in upon them, in heaps, in floods, as we
only hear of in old fairy tales; and fairy tales, as we all know very
well, have no truth in them at all.
* * * * *
One day, as Ali Pasha was walking to and fro on the bastions of
Janina, he perceived among the garden-beds in the court-yard below a
gardener engaged in planting tulips.
Tepelenti knew all the servants in the fortress thoroughly, down to
the very lowest. He not only knew them by name, but he knew what they
had to do and how they did it.
The name of this gardening slave was Dirham, and he was so named
because, many years before Mukhtar had purchased him when a child from
a slave-dealer for a dirham, and although his master often plagued
him, he nevertheless cared for him well, and brought him up and
provided him with all manner of good things. Thus Dirham, whenever his
master's name was mentioned, bethought him how little he was worth
when Mukhtar Bey bought him, and how many more dirhams he was worth
now, and for all this he could not thank Mukhtar enough.
Ali Pasha for a long time watched from the bastions this man planting
his tulips. Some of them he pressed down into the ground very
carefully, strewing them with loose powdery earth, preparing a proper
place for the bulbs beforehand, and moistening them gently with watery
spray; others he plumped down into the earth anyhow, covering them up
very perfunctorily, and never looking to see whether he watered them
too much or too little.
Ali carefully noted those bulbs which Dirham had bestowed the greatest
pains upon, and then went down and entered into conversation with him.
"What are the names of these tulips?"
Dirham ticked them all off: King George, Trafalgar, Admiral
Gruithuysen, Belle Alliance, etc., etc. But at the same time he
skipped over one or two here and there, and these were the very ones
which he had covered up with the greatest care.
"Then thou dost not know the names of those others?" inquired Ali.
"I have lost my memoranda, my lord, and I cannot remember all the
names among so many."
"Look, now, I know the names of these flowers. This is Sulaiman, that
over there is Mukhtar Bey."
Dirham cast himself on his face before the pasha. Ali had guessed
well. Dirham remembered the two gentlemen just as a good dog remembers
his master--they were ever in his mind.
The wretched man fully expected that Ali would immediately tear these
bulbs out of the ground and plant his own head there in their place.
Instead of that Ali graciously raised him from the ground and said to
him in a tender, sympathetic voice, "Fear not, Dirham! Thou hast no
need to be ashamed of such noble sentiments. Thou art thinking of my
sons. And dost thou suppose that I never think of them? I have
forbidden every one in the fortress to even mention their names; but
what does that avail me if I cannot prevent myself from thinking of
them? What avails it to never hear their names if I see their faces
constantly before me? The world says they have betrayed me; but I do
not believe, I cannot believe it. What says Dirham? Is it possible
that children can betray their own father?"
Dirham took his courage in both hands and ventured to reply:
"Strike off my head if you will, my lord, but this I say--they were
not traitors, but were themselves betrayed; for even if it were
possible for sons to betray their father, Tepelenti's children would
not betray Tepelenti."
Ali Pasha gave Dirham a purse of gold for these words, commanding him,
at the same time, to appear before him in the palace that evening, and
to bring with him, carefully transplanted into pots, those tulips
which bore the names of Sulaiman and Mukhtar.
Dirham could scarcely wait for the evening to come, and the moment he
appeared in Ali's halls he was admitted into the pasha's presence.
Then Ali bade every one withdraw from the room, that they twain might
remain together, and began to talk with him confidentially.
"I hear that my sons are living in great poverty at Adrianople. As to
their poverty, I say nothing; but, worse still, they are living in
great humiliation also. Nobody will have anything to do with them. The
wretched Spahis, who once on a time mentioned their names with
chattering teeth, now mock at them when they meet them in the street,
and when they go on foot to the bazaar to buy their bread, the women
cry with a loud voice, 'Are these, then, the heroes at whom Stambul
used to tremble?' Verily it is shameful, and Ali Pasha blushes
thereat. I know that if once I ever place in their hands those good
swords which I bound upon their thighs they would not surrender them
so readily to the enemies of Ali Pasha. What says Dirham?"
Dirham was only able to express his approval of Ali's words by a very
audible sigh.
"Hearken, Dirham! I have known for a long time a secret, which I will
venture to confide to thee."
"'Twill be as though you buried it under the earth, my master."
"In the Gulf of Durazzo there lies at anchor an English vessel, under
the command of Captain Morrison. On that ship I have deposited five
millions of piastres in gold--not less than five millions. A large
amount, eh! At any moment I like I can blow the fortress of Janina
into the air, embark on board that ship, and sail away to England or
Spain, and there I can live in a lordly fashion without care, just as
I please. But to what purpose? My remaining days are but few. Why
should I try to save them? Here I must perish. Here, where I have
grown great, it becomes me to die, and it is not for me to retreat
before the advancing sword. This money must serve another design of
mine, which has been in my mind long since, but I seek a man capable
of executing it.
"Thou shalt be that man. Falter not. Fate does great things with
little ones. Thou shalt go from Janina and pass through Gaskho Bey's
army. When thou dost arrive at Durazzo, show Morrison this ring. When
he sees it he will do everything thou sayest to him, for he will know
that these are my commands. Thou wilt have the anchor raised and sail
with the first favorable wind to Stambul. Sail not into the Golden
Horn, for it will be more difficult to get out of it again, but cast
thy anchor hard by Anadoli Hissar. There thou wilt land, and, taking
with thee a hundred thousand piastres, thou wilt put them in sacks of
chaff, the chaff being on the top, and lading sundry asses with the
sacks, thou wilt take them to Adrianople. There thou wilt seek out my
sons, and, humbly kissing the hem of their garments, give them to
understand that I have sent thee. Then thou wilt tell them of the
warfare waged around Janina, all that thou thyself hast seen and
heard. If from their faces thou seest that they receive thy words
coldly, and show no ardor of soul, then measure out to them the
hundred thousand piastres, and bid them buy and keep shop therewith,
start a large wholesale business if they feel any disposition that
way, and apply themselves diligently to heap up riches upon riches, as
it becomes honest men to do who have long years to live. But if thou
seest their face aflame and the heroes' love of glory sparkle in their
eyes; if they listen to thy words with parted lips and throbbing
hearts; if they press thy hand warmly and frequently clutch the hilts
of their swords; if they ask thee to tell them again and again what
thou hast told them already--then tell them that the path of glory and
Tepelenti's arms are always open before them, that those one hundred
thousand piastres are only for buying horses and weapons. I have five
times as much on board the English ship, and five hundred times as
much in the red tower of Janina. With the five millions of piastres
they must get ships, and these ships they must fully equip in secret.
And this will not be difficult, for all the Greek seamen have deserted
the Turkish fleet. These Greeks will offer their services gratis. When
the ships are ready, let them, through thee, inform thereof Bublinia,
the heroic Greek amazon, who is cruising off Crete with thirty vessels
to divert the attention of the Turkish fleet, and then row out to
Beikos. With favorable weather thou shouldst get to Durazzo in ten
days. Simultaneously, I from one quarter, Kleon from a second, and
Odysseus from a third will attack the army of Gaskho Bey, and if my
sons are victorious at sea, in the evening of the same day we shall be
able to rest in one another's arms."
Dirham wept like a child.
The pasha continued his directions:
"At every step be cautious. Accomplish everything amidst the greatest
secrecy. Don't let my sons scatter their money right and left, lest
their wealth be suspected and give rise to envy and jealousy. It would
be better if they left the bulk of it on board ship, and only drew
from it whatever may be necessary for the time being. When thou dost
communicate with Bublinia, write on the parchment all sorts of
different things higgledy-piggledy. Say, for instance, that thou art
disembarking wool in Crete, and will consign it to Argyrocantharides,
who is friendly with the Sultan and all the pashas, and, at the same
time, an intermediary between us and the Greeks. But in the empty
spaces between the lines let Mukhtar write the message for Bublinia in
special characters with oil of vitriol; then, when thou dost hand over
the documents, moisten these special rows of letters with a piece of
citron. But stay, I will give thee a still better counsel. Melt some
lunar caustic in water, and write therewith thy message on the shell
of hard-boiled eggs. Then boil the eggs again; and when thou dost
break them open thou wilt find the writing visible on the white
membrane inside. Do that. Eggs are the least suspicious of cargoes."
Dirham made a careful mental note of all that was told him, secretly
amazed that Ali Pasha should have extended his attention to the
smallest details.
"One thing more," said Ali, and his voice trembled with emotion. "I
know right well that I am giving my sons dangerous parts to play, and
the issue thereof is uncertain. Take, therefore, this ring; the stone
set in it contains a talisman. Give it to Mukhtar. Let him wear it on
his finger, and if ever he finds himself environed by a great danger,
a very great danger--which Allah forfend!--then let him open the stone
of the ring and read the talisman engraved therein. But this he is
only to do if a great danger be at hand, when he trembles for his
life, when the lowest slave would not change heads with him; for when
once it has been read the talisman loses all its virtue. And now
depart, and bethink thee of all I have told thee."
Dirham kissed the hem of the pasha's garment and promised that he
would carefully perform everything. Ali accompanied him down into the
garden. On their way back to the place they had to cross the spot
where Zaid was buried. As the hollow earth resounded beneath Ali's
feet, he stopped for a moment and murmured to himself, "H'm! thou
shalt not be the only one!"
* * * * *
Two weeks later Dirham met the sons of Ali in Adrianople. Morrison's
ship had taken him on the way thither, and during the voyage Dirham
had countless opportunities of convincing himself that the money
deposited by Ali was safely guarded in the hold of the vessel. There
he said everything which Ali had confided to him, and as it seemed to
the poor servant, through the medium of his tearful eyes, as if the
beys grew enthusiastic at the tidings of the war which their aged
father was waging, he told them, in this persuasion, that Ali had sent
them five million piastres, that they might buy ships and collect arms
and unite their forces to his.
The beys rejoiced greatly at the tidings of the five millions, and
embraced Dirham, who did his best to attribute all the merit of the
deed to Tepelenti for sending the money so magnanimously.
"The old man might have sent us still more," said Sulaiman. "What does
he want with it in Janina? Sooner or later it will become the prey of
his enemies."
"Pardon me, my lord!" objected Dirham. "It will become nobody's prey
if only you unite with him."
"Ugh!" said Sulaiman; and at that moment the two brothers caught each
other's eye, and it was as though the same thought suddenly occurred
to them both.
When Dirham delivered the ring to Mukhtar, the latter asked,
suspiciously:
"Is there any poison in this ring?"
"What are you thinking of, my lord? I wore it on my finger the whole
way hither. There is a talisman in it."
At this both the brothers burst out laughing. They had often ridiculed
Ali for his absurd superstition. Nevertheless, Mukhtar kept the ring,
for there was a splendid emerald in it.
But the secret of the eggs completely won the favor of the brothers.
That was really a capital idea of Ali's. In this way the pashas could
send secret messages even in their harems. Who would ever suspect an
egg? They would put it to the proof at once. They would send a
declaration of love to the odalisks of the Seraskier, written in an
egg.
Dirham shook his head and spoke seriously, and entreated the beys to
first of all enter into a league with Bublinia, the amazon of Chios,
who was even bold enough on occasions to make a dash at the
Dardanelles; for if they did not hasten, the money that had been sent
to them would be of no use. It would be dangerous, he urged, to show
the people of Adrianople that they had received money. The English
captain, moreover, was not disposed to render any other service than
that of keeping safe custody of the money confided to him; but if any
harm happened to them because of it, he would neither defend them nor
even convey them out of Turkish waters.
These wise remonstrances made some impression upon the beys. Just as
if their thoughts were pursuing the same course, they both hastened to
beg Dirham to let them have at once the eggs, the lunar caustic,
writing materials, and all other indispensable things. Moreover, they
forgot to give him money for these purchases, so the poor fellow had
to buy them out of his own purse.
Dirham's foot was scarcely out of the house when the two brothers
looked at each other and smiled.
"I have a good idea," began Sulaiman.
"And I also," said the other.
"I don't mean to return to Ali."
"Nor I. I bear in mind what happened to Zaid."
"I propose we buy a ship, on which we may hide our money."
"And we'll man her with a Greek crew."
"Then we will send Dirham with the messages written in the eggs to
Bublinia, and we'll write great things therein. We'll tell her that we
stand ready here with our fleets, and if she will attack the Kapudan
Pasha in front we will attack him in the rear. The woman is mad. She
will come forth from the Archipelago and fall upon the Turkish fleet.
Then the Kapudan Pasha will assemble his forces against her, and she
will engage all his attention till we have nicely set sail, nor will
we stop till we reach Cadiz."
"Admirable! for that is the land of good wine and fair women."
"And then Ali Pasha may wait for us till the angel Izrafil blows his
trumpet on the last day!"
"And Bublinia as well--not forgetting the Sultan! Let them worry each
other."
"Mashallah! Life is sweet!"
And so it chanced that the sons of Ali, like the princes in a fairy
tale, suddenly and marvellously came into the possession of great
riches, and were wise enough to profit by these riches in the merriest
manner in the world. The money was given to them for blood and
weapons. They were going to lavish it on love and wine. And is not
life lovelier so?
When Dirham came back they immediately boiled the eggs hard, and wrote
upon them every sort of magnificent message that occurred to their
minds. They promised to hasten to the assistance of the Greeks, both
by land and by sea; to cut their way through the fleets with their
fire-ships and blow the Turkish flag-ship into the air; to incite the
Janissaries to rise against the Sultan and the Greeks to rise against
the Janissaries; in all of which there was not a single word of truth.
Only worthy Dirham believed these things, and trembled in body and
soul at the bare thought of the sublime deeds that his masters had
determined to perform.
He himself hired a barge, loaded it with wool, and, hiding the eggs
full of secrets in a basket, set out for the Archipelago.
The good youths meanwhile laughed to their hearts' content. They
laughed at worthy Dirham; they laughed at the worthy Bublinia, and at
the wise Kapudan Pasha; they laughed at this amusing piece of good
fortune which brought them riches in heaps. But at nobody did they
laugh so much as at old Tepelenti, who was believing all along that
his sons were collecting war-ships for him.
But did he really believe it?
On the same day that Dirham quitted Adrianople, a fakir of the
Nimetullahita Order penetrated into the Seraglio and demanded an
audience of the Sultan. It was the self-same old soothsayer who had
exhibited his enchantments to Ali.
On being admitted to the presence of Mahmoud, he stood audaciously
upright before him, bending his head no lower than it was already
crooked by the weight of years.
"Allah hath sent me to thee," said the dervish, in a deep, hollow
voice, which had lost all its sonorousness. "A great danger is
approaching thee. The storm hanging over thy head is at this moment
compressed within the skin of an egg, and thou couldst crush it in the
palm of thy hand; but if thou dost suffer it to come forth from the
egg, thy whole realm will not be sufficient to contain it. This,
therefore, is the word of Allah unto thee: This day and this night,
and to-morrow and to-morrow night, stop every vessel which sails up
the narrow waters of the Golden Horn and search them, and whenever thy
guards come upon an egg, let them seize it and bring it to thee; for
amongst them are diverse cockatrice eggs which, if once they be
hatched, will swallow up both thee and thy realm."
Having said these words, the dervish turned him about, and without so
much as saluting the Padishah, without even taking off his slippers
before him, he withdrew, not even asking for a reward.
The Sultan was profoundly impressed by this audacity. He immediately
sent orders to the wardens of the two watch-towers at the entrance of
the Golden Horn to board and search thoroughly every vessel that
passed between them, seize every egg they found on board and bring
them to him, at the same time detaining all the crews of such vessels.
Fate so willed it that Dirham's was the first vessel that fell into
the hands of the searchers.
When the unfortunate servant perceived that the guards seized the
eggs, he leaped into the sea, and although he was a good swimmer, he
allowed himself to be suffocated in the water lest he should be
compelled to betray his masters.
The eggs they carried to the Sultan, and when he had opened them and
had read the writing written on their inner skins, he was horrified.
Treachery and rebellion! The conspiracy was spreading from one end of
the empire to the other. The complicated intrigue, one of whose
threads was in Janina and the other in the islands of the Archipelago,
had its third in the very capital. This called for terrible reprisals.
The beys were seized the same night in the midst of their joys, and
dragged from the paradise of their hopes to be thrown into a dungeon.
Who could have betrayed the secret of the eggs? they asked themselves.
Why, who else but Tepelenti?
Fools! to fancy that they could make a fool of Tepelenti!
Sulaiman fainted when they informed him that the secret of the eggs
was discovered. Mukhtar felt that the moment had come of which Ali had
said that the lowest slave would not then exchange heads with his two
sons, and in that hour of peril he bethought him of the talismanic
ring which had been sent to him. Hastily he removed the emerald,
believing that at least a quickly operative poison was contained
therein, by which he might be saved from a shameful death. There was,
however, no poison inside the ring, but these words were engraved
thereon, "Ye have fallen into the hands of Ali!"
Mukhtar dropped the ring; he was annihilated.
The hand of Ali, that implacable hand which reached from one end of
the world to the other, which clutched at him even out of the tomb--he
now felt all its weight upon his head.
Die he must, and his brother also.
The Reis-Effendi examined them, and both of them doggedly denied all
knowledge of what was written on the eggs. But there was one thing
they could not deny--the five million piastres on the English ship;
this was the most damaging piece of evidence against them, and proved
to be their ruin.
The Sultan demanded from Morrison the money of the beys, and Morrison
himself appeared before the Reis-Effendi to defend his consignment,
which he maintained he was only bound to deliver to its lawful owner.
The Reis-Effendi replied that in the Ottoman Empire there was only one
lawful owner of every sort of property, and that was the Sultan. The
property of every deceased person fell to the Grand Signior, and
nobody could make a will without his permission.
Morrison objected, very pertinently, that as the beys were not
deceased the Sultan could scarcely be looked upon as their heir.
Instead of making any answer, the Reis-Effendi sent out his officers
with a little piece of parchment which he had previously subscribed,
and a few moments later the severed heads of the beys stood in front
of Morrison on a silver trencher.
"If their not being dead was the sole impediment," remarked the
Minister of Foreign Affairs, "you perceive that it has now been
removed."
Morrison thereupon handed over all the gold and silver in his
possession as rapidly as possible, and quitted Constantinople that
very hour; he had no great love of a place where every word cost the
life of a man.
But the heads of the beys were stuck on the gates of the Seraglio for
three days and three nights in the sight of all the people, and
mounted heralds proclaimed, at intervals of an hour, "Behold the heads
of the sons of the rebellious Ali Tepelenti, who would have devastated
Stambul!"
And the people loaded the heads with curses each time the proclamation
was made.
* * * * *
A few days later the news reached Janina that Sulaiman Bey and Mukhtar
Bey had been beheaded at Stambul.
Ali Pasha thrice bowed his face to the ground and gave thanks to Allah
for His mercies. And he caused to be proclaimed on the ramparts,
amidst a flourish of trumpets, that his sons, the treacherous beys,
had been decapitated at Stambul. Such is the reward of traitors!
After that, for three days and three nights--just as long a time as
the heads of the beys had been exposed on the gates of the Seraglio--a
banquet, with music and dancing, was given in the fortress of Janina,
and every morning a hundred and one volleys were fired from the
bastions--the usual ceremony after great triumphs.
And when in the evening Ali took a promenade in his garden, and walked
up and down among his flowers, he would now and then trample the earth
beneath his feet. It was the grave of Zaid that he was trampling upon.
There stood an old dahlia, the sole survivor of its extirpated family,
and, levelling it to the ground with his foot, he trod it into the
grave, murmuring to himself, "No longer art thou alone--no longer
alone!"