Neither Tocktamish nor his victim knew that Lucilla had slipped the
bolt after them, for Omobono was too terrified to hear anything but
the Tartar's voice, and the latter was just in that state of
intoxication in which a man perceives nothing that is not closely
connected with the idea that possesses him for the time being; it is a
state of mind familiar to those whose business it is to catch men, or
to cheat them.
The strong box stood against the wall at the farther end of the room,
and close to the high desk at which Omobono usually worked. When he
came to it the secretary stood still, and Tocktamish bent down and
began to fumble with the keys.
The box had three locks, each having a hasp that closed with a strong
spring when the lid was shut down, and each requiring a separate key.
It was a large chest, completely covered with sheet-iron and heavily
bound with iron straps, the whole being kept bright by daily
polishing.
Tocktamish could not make the keys fit, and desisted with an oath.
'Open it!' he commanded, seizing the trembling secretary by the collar
and forcing him to his knees before the chest.
It would have been death to disobey, in the Tartar's present mood.
Omobono put each key into the lock to which it belonged, turned each
three times, and the middle one a fourth time, which had the effect of
drawing back all the springs at once; at the same time he raised the
heavy lid a little with one hand, and then opened it with both.
Tocktamish began to throw the contents out on the floor with eager
haste, seizing upon the money-bags first; but these were not many, nor
were they very heavy, for the young merchant's capital was invested in
many enterprises and was rarely lying idle, and as for spare cash he
had taken out a goodly sum within the past two days to be given away
to the guards at the palace. The Tartar soon saw that there were not a
thousand gold ducats in the chest, and there was but a little silver.
The rest of the contents consisted of accounts, papers, and
parchments, many of which represented wealth, but could not be turned
into gold by a thief. Tocktamish had an ignorant barbarian's primitive
idea of riches, and being profoundly disappointed he at once became
furiously angry.
'Where is the treasure?' he roared, and his face grew purple.
He shook Omobono like a rat, as he repeated his question again and
again. The wretched secretary felt that his hour was indeed come, and
though he tried to speak and protest he really made no sound. Then
Tocktamish remembered his own words.
'I said I would drown you in the box!' he cried. 'And by the sun and
moon, full and new, I will! I will, by the vine, the wine, and the
drinkers, you rat, you miserable Italian flea, you skinny little bag
of bones!'
Thereupon he hove up Omobono sideways by one arm and one leg and
dropped him, fainting, into the empty money-chest, of which he
instantly shut the lid. It closed with a loud snap as the three
springs simultaneously fell into the slots in the three hasps. At the
same moment Omobono lost consciousness; his last impression had been
that he was killed and was to wake up in purgatory, and he had made
one wild attempt to say a prayer when Tocktamish whirled him off his
feet, but he could only remember the last words--
'... strength to resist curiosity.'
Then everything was dark, the big locks snapped above his head and he
knew nothing more. Having successfully accomplished this brave feat,
the tipsy giant gravely sat down on the chest to think, for he had
already forgotten that he had meant to throw it into the Golden Horn,
and besides, even in his condition, he knew very well that four men
could hardly have moved such a weight. As he sat he stooped down and
drew the scattered contents of the chest towards him, and picked the
small bags from the heaps of documents. Then it occurred to him that
it would be more convenient to put all the coin into one sack which he
could fasten to his belt. It would not be a very heavy weight, and it
was not possible to cram all the bags into his wallet. A thousand gold
ducats only weighed about twenty pounds, by goldsmiths' weight.
When he had put all together in a soft leathern sack which he found
empty, he got upon his feet, with the idea of going back to rifle the
house since he had not found what he expected in the safe. It was
familiar work to him, for after he had left Greece he had been a
robber before he had turned respectable by taking service with the
Emperor. He kicked the strong box before he went away.
'Good-bye, little man!' he laughed.
But there was no answer, and at the idea that Omobono was such a
fragile creature as to have died of fright, he laughed louder and
slapped his huge thigh with his hand. It seemed quite inexpressibly
funny to him that any one should actually die of fear, of all
disorders in the world.
He had fastened the leathern sack securely to his belt, and he went to
the door to let himself out. When he found it fastened he looked at it
curiously, and scratched his big head, trying to remember whether he
had locked it after him or not, for he recollected that he had shut it
lest any one should come upon him suddenly. But there was no key in
the lock on the inside. He might have dropped it, or slipped it into
his wallet, and he began to look for it, going round and round the
room and kicking the papers and account-books hither and thither. It
was not to be seen, and the windows were heavily grated; but he did
not doubt his strength to break the door down. That was a mere trifle
after all.
He shook it violently, struck it, kicked it, and shook it again, but
to his stupefaction it would not budge an inch. The servants had
pushed a heavy marble table against it, and had piled up half a ton of
furniture; he might as well have tried to break through the wall. Then
it occurred to him that Omobono might have taken the key. He would
open the box, though it was a pity to disturb a dead man in such an
excellent coffin.
But the box could not be opened any more than the door, for the
springs had snapped, and he did not understand the complicated locks.
He tried again and again, but failed each time. Perhaps the secretary
was not dead after all. Tocktamish would speak to him, and ask him how
to open the safe.
'Little man,' he said, 'I will let you out if you will tell me how to
use the keys.' But the little man did not answer. If he was alive and
heard, he had no desire to be let out while his tormentor was in the
house. At the thought that he could perhaps hear, but would not speak,
Tocktamish went into a paroxysm of fury.
He seized the high stool that stood beside the desk and swung it with
terrific force, bringing it down on the strong box, so that it flew
into splinters with an appalling din. He raged, he foamed at the
mouth, he bawled and yelled, and he smashed one piece of furniture
after another on the heavy iron without producing the smallest
impression on it, and without getting the least answer from Omobono,
who was still half-unconscious, happily for his nerves, and was
dreaming that he had taken refuge in a baker's oven during a terrible
thunderstorm.
The stool was reduced to kindling wood, two large chairs had followed
it, and Tocktamish was in the act of heaving up the desk itself,
sending inkstand, pens, and papers flying to the four corners of the
room, and determined to crack the strong box with one tremendous blow,
when a musical voice spoke gently through the window nearest to him.
Zoë and her maids were there, and the whole household of men-servants
and slaves were behind them. The three girls were standing on the
broad stone seat that ran round the outside of the house in the
Italian way, and they could easily look through the bars. In her haste
Zoë had not veiled herself, and when the Tartar caught sight of her
beautiful face at the window, the effect on his susceptible sentiments
was instantaneous. The vision was a hundred times more lovely than the
handsome Giustina who had escaped him. He had never seen any one like
Zoë as she stood outside in the quiet afternoon sunshine. For a moment
or two he was almost sober; the desk fell from his hands upon the iron
chest, and was not even broken, and Tocktamish's hands hung down by
his sides while he stared in stupid wonder.
Zoë was glad that there were iron bars between him and her, for she
had never seen a human being more like a raging wild beast. She had
looked anxiously for Omobono, but as there was no trace of him nor of
any blood, she at once decided that he had been able to get out by
some secret way, after Lucilla had barred the door.
'Where is Messer Carlo?' were the words which arrested Tocktamish in
the act of smashing the desk.
He stood gazing at Zoë stupidly, and as he did not answer she repeated
her question, watching him quietly so that he should understand that
he was completely in her power. When he heard her voice again he made
a sort of instinctive attempt to smooth himself, as the peacock
spreads his tail before the female; he pulled out his immense
moustaches, drew his shaggy beard through his two hands, settled his
fur papakh on his head, and smiled complacently as he approached the
window, prepared, in his own estimation, to win the heart of any woman
in Constantinople. The exercise of breaking up the furniture had
probably done him good, for he walked quite steadily, with his eyes
wide open and his big head a little on one side.
'Messer Carlo is quite safe and very well,' he answered when he was
near the grating. 'He has sent me to get him a little money, which he
greatly needs.'
'You have a singular way of executing his commission,' observed Zoë,
looking at the splinters of the smashed furniture.
Tocktamish felt that the havoc round him must be explained.
'I have been killing the rats,' he said. 'It is extraordinary how many
rats and mice get into counting-houses!'
'Where is Messer Carlo?' Zoë asked a third time.
'Sweet woolly ewe-lamb of heaven,' said Tocktamish, leaning on the
window-sill and bringing his face close to the bars, 'if you will only
give me one little kiss, I will tell you where Carlo is!'
Zoë stepped to one side along the stone seat on which she stood, for
she saw that he was going to slip one of his hands through the grating
to catch her; and even with the bars between them he looked as if he
could twist one of her arms off if she resisted him. Indeed, she was
hardly out of his reach in time. He laughed rather vacantly as he
grasped the air. The grating projected several inches beyond the
window, like the end of a cage, as the gratings generally do in old
Italian houses; and though Zoë was on one side, Tocktamish could still
look at her.
'If you will come inside, I will tell you what you wish to know, my
little dove,' he said with an engaging leer, for he did not really
believe that any woman could resist him.
'Thank you,' Zoë answered. 'I will not come in, but I will warn you.
If you will not tell me where Messer Carlo is, I shall have you shot
with the master's crossbow, like a mad dog.'
'Shall I get the bow?' asked the voice of Carlo's man, the Venetian
gondolier, who was an excellent shot, and had won a prize at the Lido.
But Tocktamish laughed scornfully.
'Your crossbow cannot shoot through the shutters,' he said, for they
were very heavy ones, at least three inches thick. 'Besides,' he
added, 'I can sit on the floor under the window, and you will not even
see me.'
'If we cannot shoot you, we can starve you,' retorted Zoë.
'Little ewe-lamb,' said the Tartar, 'the heart of Tocktamish is
fluttering for you like a moth in a lamp. For one kiss you shall have
anything you ask!'
'Do you understand that I mean to starve you?' Zoë asked sternly.
'Oh no, my beautiful pink-and-white rabbit! You will not be so
hard-hearted! And besides, if you will not let me out and give me a
kiss, my men will come presently and burn Carlo's house down, and I
shall carry you away! Ha ha! You had not thought of it! But Tocktamish
is not caught in the trap like a cub. He is an old wolf, and knows the
forest. My men know I am here, and if I do not go back to them within
this hour they will come to get me. That was agreed, and I can wait as
long as that. Then sixty of them will come, and before night we shall
take Carlo to the Emperor and give him up, and tell all we know; and
to-morrow morning he will be on a stake in the middle of the
Hippodrome, and it will be the third day before he is quite dead! Ha
ha! I remember how we watched that old scoundrel Michael Rhangabé! I
and my men were on duty at that execution!'
Zoë's cheeks turned ghastly white, and her eyes gleamed dangerously.
If there had been a weapon in her hand at that moment she could have
aimed well through the grating, and Tocktamish's days would have ended
abruptly. But on the other side of the bars the drunken Tartar was
laughing at his own skill in frightening her, for he thought she
turned pale from fear.
'Can no one silence this brute?' she cried in a tone that trembled
with anger.
'It is easily done,' said a voice she knew.
She turned and looked down from the little elevation of the stone
seat, and she saw the impassive face of Gorlias Pietrogliant looking
up to her.
'Come into the house, Kokóna,' he said, holding up a hand to help her
down. 'We will send him a pitcher of Messer Carlo's oldest wine to
help him pass an hour before his men come to burn the house down!'
Zoë understood the wisdom of the advice; Tocktamish would drink
himself into a stupor in a short time.
'The astrologer is right,' she said to the servants. 'Come in with me,
all of you.' She led the way, but Gorlias lingered a moment, stepped
upon the stone seat, and spoke to the prisoner in a low voice.
'They will be here in half an hour,' he said. 'Meanwhile I will send
you wine to drink. Are you hungry?'
'Hungry?' Tocktamish laughed at the recollection of the peacock. 'I
never dined better! But send me some wine, and when we divide, I will
have that white-faced girl for my share. The men may have the money
here. Tell them so.'
He slapped the well-filled leathern sack at his girdle as he spoke.
'As you please,' Gorlias answered indifferently.
He stepped to the ground again and reached the door in time to enter
with the last of the train that followed Zoë. In the dining-hall
things had been left as they were when Tocktamish and Omobono went
out. The table was in confusion, and flooded with wine that had run
down to the floor, and two or three chairs were upset. Gorlias filled
a silver pitcher with Chian; but when he turned towards the window Zoë
was the only one who saw him empty into the wine the contents of a
small vial which he seemed to have had ready in the palm of his hand.
He called Carlo's man.
'Take it to him,' he said. 'You can easily pass it through the bars.'
'It is not much wine,' observed the man doubtfully. 'He will drink
that at a draught.'
'If he asks for more, fill the pitcher again,' answered Gorlias. 'If
he falls asleep, let me know.'
The man went off.
'Clear away all that,' said Zoë to the men-servants who stood looking
on. 'The master must not find this confusion when he comes home.'
Her tone and her manner imposed obedience, and besides, they knew that
Tocktamish was safe for a while. They began to clear the table at
once, and Zoë left the room followed by Gorlias and her two maids, who
had been silent witnesses of what had passed.
Upstairs, they left her alone with the astrologer, and disappeared to
discuss in whispers the wonderful things that were happening in the
house.
'Where is he?' asked Zoë, as soon as the maids were gone.
'He is in a dry cistern near the north wall of the city.'
'Hiding?'
'No--a prisoner. In escaping last night he ran among the soldiers who
were to have helped us, and they held him for a ransom. The Tartar
came to extort the money. You know all.'
'At least, he is safe for the present,' Zoë said, but very doubtfully,
for she did not half believe what she said.
'No,' Gorlias answered; 'he is not safe for long, and we must get him
out. They demand a ransom, but they know well enough that even if they
get it they will not dare to let him go free, since he could hang them
all by a word.'
'What will they do?'
'If they can get the money they will let him starve to death in the
cistern. If they do not, they will give him up to Andronicus for the
reward. The Emperor has proclaimed that he will give ten pounds of
gold to any one who will bring him Carlo Zeno, dead or alive. That is
not enough.'
'The Emperor knows it was he?' asked Zoë with increasing anxiety.
'Yes.'
'How?'
'I do not know. Some one has betrayed us.'
'Us all?'
'I fear so.'
'But you yourself? Do you dare go about?'
'I have many disguises, and they who know the fisherman do not know
the astrologer.'
'But if you should be taken?'
'A man cannot change his destiny. But look here. I have something from
Johannes already. He has changed his mind; he regrets not having let
us take him out last night, and he sends me this by the captain's
wife.'
Gorlias produced a parchment document.
'What is it?'
'The gift of Tenedos to Venice.'
'Ah! If Messer Carlo were only free!'
'Yes--if!' Gorlias shook his head thoughtfully. 'It will not be easy
to send an answer to this,' he went on. 'The woman brought it to me at
the risk of her life, and said it would be impossible for her to come
again. The guard is doubled, and a very different watch will be kept
in future. I do not believe that we can bring Johannes out, as we
might have done in spite of those fellows last night. Yet I am sure
that if Messer Carlo were at liberty he would try. He would at least
send word, in answer to this. But the days are over when we used to
send letters up and down by a thread--the tower is watched from the
river now.'
'Can you not get in by a disguise?'
'No. There is not the least chance of gaining admittance at present.'
'I could,' said Zoë confidently. 'I am sure I could! If I went in
carrying a basket of linen on my head and dressed like a slave-girl in
blue cotton with yellow leathern shoes, I am sure they would let me go
to the captain's wife.'
'What if your basket were searched and the letter found?'
'I would put it into my shoe. They would not look for it there.'
'You would run a fearful risk.'
'For him, if it were of any use,' Zoë answered. 'But it will not help
him at all, and if anything happened to me he would be sorry. Besides,
why should we send a message that pretends to come from Messer Carlo
when he himself is a prisoner?'
'This is the case,' Gorlias answered. 'The soldiers will never let him
out till they feel safe themselves; and the only way to make them sure
that there is no danger is really and truly to bring Johannes out and
set him on the throne again. So long as Andronicus reigns and may take
vengeance on them, they will keep Messer Carlo a prisoner to give up
at any moment, or to starve him to death for their own safety--unless
they murder him outright. But I do not believe that any ten of them
would dare to set upon him, for they know him well.'
Zoë smiled, for she was proud to love a man whom ten men would not
dare to kill.
'Then the only way to save him is to free Johannes?' she said. 'Yes,'
she went on, not waiting for an answer, 'I think you are right. Even
if we got them their ten thousand ducats they would not let him out as
long as Andronicus is at Blachernæ.'
'That is the truth of it,' Gorlias answered. 'Neither more nor less.
Messer Carlo's life depends upon it.'
'Then it must be done, come what may. Thank God, I have a life to risk
for him!'
'You have two,' said Gorlias quietly. 'You have mine also.'
'You are very loyal to Johannes, even to risking death. Is that what
you mean?'
'More than that.'
'For Messer Carlo, then?' Zoë asked. 'You owe him some great debt of
gratitude?'
'I never saw him until quite lately,' Gorlias answered. 'You need not
know why I am ready to die in this attempt, Kokóna Arethusa.'
Some one knocked at the outer door; Zoë clapped her hands for her
maids, and one of them went to the entrance. The voice of Zeno's man
spoke from outside.
'The Tartar is fast asleep already,' he said, 'and I can hear the
secretary moaning as if he were in great pain; but I cannot see him
through the window. He must be somewhere in the room, for it is his
voice.'
Zoë made a movement to go towards the door, but Gorlias raised his
hand.
'I will see to it,' he said, 'I will have the fellow taken back to his
quarters.'
Zoë bit her lip for she knew that it would be cruel and cowardly to
hurt even such a ruffian as Tocktamish, while he was helpless under
the drug Gorlias had given him. But the words he had spoken rankled
deep, and it was not likely that she should forget them.
'Do as you will,' she said.
Half an hour later poor little Omobono was in his bed, and Zeno's man
was giving him a warm infusion of marsh-mallows and camomile for his
shaken nerves. The money-bags and the papers had been restored to the
strong box in the counting-house, and Tocktamish the Tartar, sunk in
a beatific slumber, was being carried to his quarters in a hired
palanquin by four stalwart bearers.
That was the end of the memorable feast in Carlo Zeno's house.
But Zoë sat by the open window, and her heart beat sometimes very fast
and sometimes very slow; for she understood that the plight of the man
she loved was desperate indeed.