Zeno found the two occupants of the room terrorstruck, and standing on
one side of the window, from which they had not dared to look out
after the cry of alarm had been given from below. Indeed they were in
a dangerous pass, unless all three of the men who had attempted to
stop Zeno were dead, or if the first cry had roused the sleeping
captain and guards of the tower from their drugged sleep.
But Zeno's own situation was quite as bad. It was out of the question
to shout to Gorlias, on the mere chance of his being still alive and
on the pier. No communication was possible, and the rope was cut
below. It was true that the whole of the fishing-line still lay coiled
on the floor of the room, but even if it were long enough to double it
would hardly bear the man's weight; and Carlo guessed that he had cut
off nearly three-quarters of the knotted rope below him.
There was no time to be lost either. He did not know the number of his
assailants, and though he gave his signal when he reached the window,
on the mere chance of being heard, he would not have trusted the
answer to it if it had come. Any one could imitate such a sound after
hearing it once. If he let down the remaining length of the rope by
the fishing-line, and if his enemies were on the pier instead of
Gorlias, they would have wit enough to knot the rope where it had been
cut, and to send it up again, for him to come down by, and he would
drop into their very midst.
He understood all this in an instant, and without hesitation he cast
off everything above, and dropped the rope and the fishing-line out of
the window. He knew Gorlias well enough to be sure that he would come
back before daylight and land if there were no one on the pier, and
remove all traces of the attempt.
'We are all lost!' moaned the big woman.
'My hour has come,' said the Emperor Johannes in solemn terror.
Thereupon he began to say his prayers, and paid no more attention to
the others. Zeno took the woman by the wrist.
'We are not lost unless your husband is awake,' he said. 'Take me to
him.'
The captain's wife stared at him.
'There is no other way. If he is awake, you will tell him that I got
into the tower, and that you have betrayed me into his hands. You will
be safe at least, and I will take my chance. If he is asleep I have
nothing to fear.'
He drew her to the door and began to unbar it himself. She had
understood that he was right, so far as her own safety was concerned,
and she helped him. A horn lantern stood on the stone floor in the
entry at the head of the stair, where she had left it when she had
last come up. Before going down she barred the door outside as usual,
and then led the way.
At the first landing she opened a door as softly as she could and went
in, leaving Zeno on the threshold. It was the sleeping room, and Zeno
heard the captain's stertorous breathing with relief. He went in and
looked at the sleeping man's face, which was congested to a dark red
by the powerful drug, and Zeno thought it doubtful whether he would
ever wake again. The woman, ignorant of the effects of much opium, was
afraid her husband might open his eyes, and she plucked at Zeno's
sleeve, anxious to get him away; but the Venetian smiled.
'He is good for twelve hours' sleep,' he said. 'Give me his cloak and
helmet. If I find no one awake I will leave them at the outer gate.
Otherwise I will send them to the tower in a clothes-basket to-morrow
morning.'
The captain's wife obeyed, less frightened than she had been at first;
Zeno muffled half his face in the big cloak, and threw the end over
his shoulder whence it hung down, displaying the three broad stripes
of gold lace that formed the border distinctive of a captain's rank in
the guards. The bright helmet had a gilt eagle for a crest, scarcely
differing from that of the modern German Gardes du Corps regiment.
'Now show me the way,' Zeno said.
Under the folds of the cloak he had the short broad sheath-knife ready
in his grasp, and it was no bad weapon in the hand of such a fighter
as Carlo Zeno. The captain's wife led the way with the lantern.
[Illustration: The captain's wife obeyed, less frightened than she had
been at first.]
At the foot of the next flight of stairs she almost stumbled over the
sentinel, half-seated on the lowest step in a drunken sleep; his
shaggy head had fallen forwards on his breast, and his legs stuck
straight out before him, wide apart, like the legs of a wooden doll.
His hands lay open with the palms upwards, one on his knee, the other
on the step beside him; and his helmet, which had rolled off his head,
had happened to stop just between his feet, the right side up, and
facing him, as if it were watching him in his slumber like a living
thing.
The story they had now reached contained the living room of the
captain and his wife, and no sentinel was needed higher up in the
tower. An iron door, fastened on the inside, cut off the descent, and
had to be opened for Zeno to pass. But being constantly in use the
lock was well oiled, and the bolts slipped back almost without noise.
Nevertheless, as he followed his companion down the next flight, Zeno
drew up the folds of the cloak on his right arm till the edge barely
covered the drawn knife in his hand.
They reached the next story below, where the upper guard-room was. The
door was half-open, and a lamp was burning within, but as the window
was over the great court of Blachernæ no light had been visible from
the water. Zeno heard voices, and caught sight of two guards carousing
at the end of an oak table. At the sound of footsteps one of the men
rose quickly, but staggered when he tried to walk to the door.
'Who goes there?' he called out, steadying himself by the door-post,
and looking out.
The captain's wife had the presence of mind to hold up the lantern, so
that the light fell full upon the helmet Zeno wore. Instantly the
soldier tried to straighten himself to an attitude of attention, with
his hands by his sides. But this was too much for his unstable
balance, and he reeled backwards half across the room within, till he
struck the table behind him, and tumbled down with a clatter of
accoutrements and a rattling of the horn drinking-cups that were
thrown to the ground. His companion, who was altogether too drunk even
to leave his seat, broke into a loud idiotic laugh at his accident.
'You have done your share well, Kyría,' said Zeno, as he followed her
again. 'The Emperor's friends could have brought him down by the
stairs in triumph without being stopped.'
'You are not out of the palace precincts yet,' answered the captain's
wife in a warning tone.
She went on, treading more softly as she descended, and carrying the
lantern low lest she or her companion should stumble over another
sleeping sentinel; but the staircase and the door that led into the
court were deserted, for the captain was a very exact man, and had his
supper at the same hour every evening, and went to bed soon afterwards
like an honest citizen, after setting the watch and locking the iron
door of his own lower landing. In two years he had never once come
down the tower after sunset. The consequence was that the guards, who
were mostly rough barbarians from the Don country and the shores of
the Black Sea, did as they pleased, or as their lieutenant pleased;
for he found it pleasant to spend his nights in another part of the
palace, and was extremely popular with his men, because they were
thus enabled to go to bed like good Christians and sleep all night.
All this the captain's wife knew well enough. Her apprehension was for
what might happen to Zeno between leaving the tower and passing the
great gate, which was the only way to get out of the fortified
precincts. The wide courtyard was very dark, but there were lights
here and there in the windows of the buildings that surrounded it on
three sides, the great mass of the palace on the right, the barracks
of the guards along the wall to the left, and the main post at the
great gate in front with the buildings on each side of it, some
occupied by slaves and some used as stables.
Zeno wished that he had stripped one of the sleeping soldiers and had
put on his dress, for he had been informed of the captain's habits,
and knew that the disguise was no longer a safe one after leaving the
tower. Indeed it was a chief part of the captain's duty never to go
out after dark, on any excuse, and he apparently made sure of obeying
this permanent order by going to bed early and getting up late. For
the rest, he had always left the personal care of his prisoner to his
wife, judging that her stout middle-age and fiery cheeks sufficiently
protected his domestic honour. She had been young and very pretty
once, it was true, but the captain did not know that Johannes had even
seen her then, much less did he guess that many years ago, when the
Emperor was a handsome young prince and she was a lovely girl in the
old Empress's train, she had worshipped him and he had condescended
to accept her admiration for a few weeks. But this was the truth, as
Zeno's grandson the bishop very clearly explains.
She left her lantern just inside the door and came out with Carlo into
the open air. After walking a few steps she laid her hand on his arm,
stopped, looked round, and listened. As yet they had not exchanged two
words about the situation, and were far from sure that the watch which
had detected Carlo from the water and had failed to catch him, had not
come round by land to the palace gate to give the alarm.
Zeno slipped the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it round the
helmet, so that the captain's wife could carry both conveniently.
'It is hopeless,' she whispered, as she took them. 'This morning he
promised that he would leave the prison if you could bring him out. He
has often spoken to me as he spoke to you this evening--he loves the
boy dearly; but I was sure that he had made up his mind to risk
everything, else I would not have shown the red light.'
'After all,' Zeno observed, 'it is just as well that he would not
come, since we were seen, though I really believe Gorlias was too much
for the men who almost caught us. He and I together could certainly
have settled them all--there were only three. I saw them distinctly
when they first jumped ashore, and one was killed by the fall when I
cut the rope. Gorlias silenced the other two, for if they were alive
there would have been an alarm here by this time.'
'Yes,' the woman answered. 'But some one must have betrayed us. We
cannot try that way again.'
'I shall not try that, or any other way again!' Zeno said with
emphasis. 'In the name of the Evangelist, why should I risk my neck to
free a man who prefers to be a prisoner?'
'The wonder is that you are alive this time!'
'It will not even be safe to communicate by the thread again. Will you
take him a message?'
'As well as I can remember it.'
'Tell him that the next time he asks my help he must send me, by the
same messenger, a deed giving Tenedos to Venice, signed and sealed.
Otherwise I will not stir!'
'Shall I tell him that?'
'Yes. Tell him so from me. And now, go back, Kyría, and thank you for
your guidance and your lantern in those dark stairs.'
'How shall you pass the gate?' asked the captain's wife.
She spoke anxiously, for Zeno was a handsome man, and she had seen how
brave he was.
'I do not know,' he answered, 'but one of two things must happen.'
'What things?'
'Either I shall get out or I shall never see daylight again! I shall
not let myself be taken alive to be impaled in the Hippodrome, I
assure you. Thank you again, and good-night.'
She drew back into the shadow of the tower door and watched the
handsome young man with the peculiar half-motherly, half-sentimental
anxiety of the middle-aged woman, who was a flirt in her youth and
turned the heads of just such men, who knows that she is grown fat and
ugly and can never turn the head of another, but who has preserved
many tender and pleasant recollections of all the sex.
Zeno did not walk straight towards the gate, though it was easily
distinguished from the adjacent buildings by the greater number of its
lights. He crossed the wide court diagonally to the right, in the
direction of the stables, till he was near enough to see distinctly
any one who chanced to come under the rays of one of the scattered
lamps that burned here and there in doorways and open windows. Before
long he saw a trooper of the guards emerging rather unsteadily out of
the darkness into one of these small circles of light. Zeno could not
help smiling to himself at the idea that there was hardly one sober
man awake among the guards that night, and that they had all drunk
themselves stupid with his money.
He overtook the man in half-a-dozen strides, and spoke to him in a low
voice.
'Hi! comrade! You who are still perfectly sober, help a friend who is
very drunk!'
The man stopped, steadied himself, and answered with ponderous
gravity.
'Perfectly--hic--hic--sober!'
'I wish I were!' replied Zeno. 'The truth is, I am exceedingly drunk,
though I do not show it. Wine only affects my brains, never my legs
or my tongue. It is a very strange thing!'
'Very--cu--hic--rious!' responded the soldier, trying to see his
interlocutor clearly, by screwing up his eyes.
'Extraordinarily cuhicrious, as you justly observe,' Zeno answered
gravely. 'But the fact is----'
'Excuse me--hic,' interrupted the soldier. 'Are you one man--hic--or
two men?'
'One man,' Zeno answered. 'Only one, and so drunk that I have quite
forgotten the password.'
'Sec--hic--ret,' hiccoughed the man. 'Password secret,' he repeated,
with a tremendous effort.
'Here is a gold piece, my dear friend. You will help a comrade in
trouble.'
The man took the money eagerly, and tried to put it into his wallet.
To do so he had to bend his head down so as to see the thongs that
fastened it. It took a long time to find them.
'Just give me the password before you do that,' Zeno said in a coaxing
tone.
'Password?' The man looked up stupidly.
The effort of undoing the thongs had been too much for him, and had
sent the blood to his head. He staggered against the Venetian, and
tried to speak. After many efforts he got the words out suddenly.
'Drunk, by Moses!' he cried, quite distinctly, as he fell in a heap at
Zeno's feet.
In his vexation Zeno could have kicked the stupid mass of humanity
across the great yard, but he was far too wise to waste his time so
unprofitably. Instead of kicking him he stepped across him, thrust
his hands under the unconscious man's armpits, hove him up like a sack
of flour, got him over his shoulder, and carried him to the open door
of the nearest stable, whence the light came. Five horses stood or lay
in their stalls, but the sixth stall was vacant, and there was fresh
straw in it. Zeno threw the man down there, and looked round, to see
that no one else was in the place. He hesitated a moment as to whether
he should shut the door, but decided that to do so might attract the
attention of a sober man, if there were any about, which was doubtful.
The trooper was now sound asleep, and it was the work of a few moments
to pull off his boots of soft leather and slip them on, for Zeno had
left his own in the boat, and had walked in his cloth hose; he took
off the soldier's sword-belt and tunic next, the latter of rich
scarlet cloth trimmed with heavy silver lace, the belt being entirely
covered with silver scales. The drunken sleeper grunted with
satisfaction when he felt himself relieved of his useless clothes, and
settled himself comfortably in the straw while Zeno put on the tunic
over his own buff jerkin and drew the belt tight round his waist,
settled the man's tall Greek cap on his own head at the proper angle,
as the troopers wore it, and threw the military cloak over his arm.
He could now easily pass himself for a trooper at the gate, and a man
who has been a soldier is rarely at a loss amongst soldiers,
especially if he wears a uniform. In consideration of what he had
taken, Zeno, who was an honest man of business, left the man his
wallet with the piece of gold and anything else it might contain, and
after carefully removing a few wisps of straw that clung to his
clothes, he went towards the door of the stable.
His plan was to saunter to the gate and loiter there till a chance
offered of opening the small night-postern in the great door, which he
had noticed in passing the palace when the gates were open. The fact
of his being sober when almost every one else was more or less
intoxicated, would give him a great advantage.
But as he turned from the sleeper and walked along the line from the
empty stall, which was the last, his eye fell on the saddles and
bridles, neatly arranged on stout pegs that projected from the walls,
each set opposite the stall of the horse to which it belonged. He
peered out into the wide court, and listened for the sound of voices.
From very far away he heard the echo of a drinking chorus, less loud
than the noise made behind him by one of the horses that had a fancy
for a mouthful of hay just then, and was chewing it conscientiously as
only animals can chew.
All was very quiet outside. Zeno changed his plan, turned back into
the stable, and began to saddle the horse farthest from the door. He
did not mean to ride far, else he would have picked out his mount with
all the judgement he possessed. There was but a dash to make, and it
was far more important that no passing trooper should see him in the
act of putting on saddle and bridle than that he should have the best
horse under him afterwards. Besides, they were all big, hay-fed
animals, sleek and sleepy, mostly white Tunisians, and much more fit
for a procession than a campaign.
When he had finished, he led the charger past the other stalls,
stopping just before he reached the door to put out the oil lamp that
hung by the entrance. This done, he slipped his arm through the bridle
and left the stable. He struck across the deserted court towards the
palace, until he was almost in the middle of the yard, and opposite
the great gate, towards which he looked steadily for some seconds,
trying to make out, by the uncertain light that dimly illuminated it
from within, whether the doors under the arch were open or shut. There
was just a possibility that they might be open. It was worth trying
for; and after all, if they were barred, he was sure that he could
impose upon the sentinels to open them. A man accustomed to command
does not doubt that he must be obeyed when he asserts himself.
Zeno mounted the big horse, which was as quiet as any old circus hack
in the Hippodrome, trained to let a dancing-girl skip the rope on his
broad back. His rider put him from a walk to a canter, and from a
canter to a thundering gallop that roused echoes all round the court.
As he came near he saw that the doors were shut, but he did not
slacken speed till he was almost upon the startled sentinels. Then he
drew rein suddenly, as was the practice of horsemanship in those days,
and the great Tunisian threw himself back on his haunches with
outstretched forefeet, while Zeno called out to the watch.
'On the Emperor's service!' he shouted. 'The gates, and quickly!'
The sentinels were tolerably sober, for they were not to get their
full share of the flood of wine that was flowing till their guard was
relieved. But they could hardly be blamed for obeying Zeno's
imperative command. It was not likely that a guardsman of their troop
who wished to slip out of barracks for a night's amusement would dress
himself in full uniform and come galloping and shouting to the gate,
nor that any trooper would dare to pretend that he rode on the
Emperor's business if it were not true.
The two sentinels therefore did not hesitate, but set their long
cavalry lances upright against the walls on either side, took down the
bar, and laid hold of the ponderous gates, each man taking one and
throwing himself backwards with all his weight to move it. When once
started, the doors swung slowly but easily backwards. Zeno sat
motionless in the saddle, ready to dash forward as soon as there was
room for him to pass. He had halted just far enough away to allow the
doors to swing clear of his horse's head as they were pulled inward.
It was an anxious moment.
A second more and there would be space between the yawning gates. But
that second had not yet passed when a tall officer in scarlet rushed
shouting from the open door of the guard-house, and seized Zeno's
bridle.
'Stop him!' yelled the lieutenant. 'Shut the gates!'
The two soldiers did their best to obey instantly, but the leaves of
the gate were of cypress wood four inches thick, and covered with
bronze, and were swinging back faster now under the impulse they had
received. It was impossible to check them suddenly, and the order was
hardly spoken when Zeno saw that there was room to ride through.
He would have given his fortune for a pair of Arab spurs at that
moment, but he struck the corners of his heels at the horse's sides
with all his might, and almost lifted him by the bridle at the same
time. The big Tunisian answered the call upon his strength better than
the rider had dared to hope; he gathered himself and lifted his
forequarters, shaking his head savagely to get rid of the hands that
grasped the off rein close to the bit, and then he dashed forwards,
straight between the doors, throwing the officer to the ground and
dragging him violently away in the powerful stride of his heavy
gallop.
Seeing what had happened the sentinels started in pursuit at full
speed, following the sound of the charger's shoes on the cobble-stones
rather than anything they could see, for it was as dark as pitch
outside.
The officer, who was very active and seemed indifferent to the
frightful risk he ran, still clung to the bridle, regained his feet,
ran nimbly by the side of the galloping horse, and seemed about to
spring up and close with Zeno to drag him from the saddle. Zeno had no
weapon within reach now, for his knife was in his own belt, under the
belted tunic he wore over his clothes, and he could not possibly get
at it. But the officer was unarmed, too, as he had sprung from his
couch, and was at a great disadvantage on foot.
They dashed on into the darkness of the broad street. Zeno bent down,
and tried to get at his adversary's collar with his right hand, but
the officer dodged him and jerked the bridle with desperate energy,
bringing the Tunisian to a stand after one more furious plunge. At the
same instant Zeno heard the footsteps of the two guardsmen running up
behind, and he realised that the odds were three to one against him,
and that he had no weapon in his hand. The troopers, of course, had
their Greek sabres. If he could not escape, he must either be taken
alive or cut to pieces on the spot, with no defence but his bare
hands.
He did not hesitate. The officer, dragging down the charger's head by
his weight to stop him, was almost on his knees for a moment, on the
off side, of course, and the soldiers had not yet come up. Zeno
dropped the reins, sprang from the saddle, and ran for his life.