In vain did Castriot assault the Turks who were intrenched about the
wells and springs in the neighborhood. Now and then a victory over
them would be followed by a long procession from the town, rolling
casks, carrying buckets, pitchers, leather bottles and dug-out
troughs. The amount of water thus procured but scarcely sufficed to
keep life in the veins of the defenders: it did not suffice to nourish
heart and courage. It was foreseen that Sfetigrade must fall.
Constantine was in the madness of despair about Morsinia. Her fate in
the event of capture was simply horrible to contemplate. Yet she could
hardly hope to make her way through the Turkish lines. Constantine was
at the camp with Castriot when it was announced that the enemy had at
length got possession of every approach to the town, so that there was
no communication between the Albanians within and those without,
except by signaling over the heads of the Turks. Castriot determined
upon a final attack, during which, if he should succeed in uncovering
any of the gates of the town, the people might find egress.
Constantine begged to be allowed the hazardous duty of entering, by
passing in disguise through the Turkish army, and giving the
endangered people the exact information of Castriot's purpose. Taking
advantage of his former experience, he donned the uniform of a
Janizary, easily learned the enemy's password, and at the moment
designated to the besieged by Castriot's signal--just as the lower
star of the Great Dipper disappeared behind the cliff--he emerged from
the dense shadows of an angle of the wall. He was scarcely opposite
the gate when the drawbridge lowered and rose quickly. The portcullis
was raised and dropped an instant later, and he was within the town.
Throwing off his disguise, he went at once toward the commandant's
quarters to deliver despatches from Castriot. But a shout preceded
him--
"The destroyer! The destroyer! Death to the destroyer!"
Multitudes, awakened by the shouting, came from the houses and
soldiers' quarters. Constantine was seized by the crowd, who yelled:
"To the well with him! Let the dog's soul come into him!"
He was borne along as helplessly as a leaf in the foaming cataract.
"To the well! To the well with the poisoner!"
The cry grew louder and shriller; the multitude maddening under the
intense fury of their mutual rage, as each coal is hotter when many
glow with it in the fire. Women mingled with soldiers, shrieking their
insane vengeance, until the crowd surged with the victim around the
well. The planks were torn off by strong hands. The horror of the deed
they were about to commit made them pause. Each waited for his
neighbor to assume the desperate office of actually perpetrating what
was in all their hearts to do.
At length three of the more resolute stepped forward as executioners
of the popular will. The struggling form of Constantine was held erect
that all might see him. Torches waved above his head. One stood upon
the well curb, and, dropping a torch into the dark abyss, cried with a
loud voice--
"So let his life be put out who destroys us all!"
"So let it be!" moaned the crowd; the wildness of their wrath somewhat
subdued by the impressiveness of the tragedy they were enacting.
The well hissed back its curse as the burning brand sunk into the
water.
But a new apparition burst upon the scene. Suddenly, as if it had
risen from the well, a form draped in white stood upon the curb. Her
long golden hair floated in the strong wind. Her face, from sickness
white as her robe, had an unearthly pallor from the excitement, and
seemed to be lit with the white heat of her soul. Her sunken eyes gave
back the flare of the torches, as if they gleamed with celestial
reprobation.
"The Holy Virgin!" cried some.
"One of the Vili!" cried others.
The crowd surged back in ghostly fear.
"Neither saint nor sprite am I," cried Morsinia. "Your own wicked
hearts make you fear me. It is your consciences that make you imagine
a simple girl to be a vengeful spirit, and shrink from this horrid
murder, to the very brink of which your ignorance and wretched
superstition have led you. Blessed Mary need not come from Heaven to
tell you that a man--a man for whom her Son Jesu died--should not be
made to die for the sake of a dead dog. I, a child, can tell you
that."
"But the well is accursed and the people die," said a monk, throwing
back his cowl, and reaching out his hand to seize her.
"And such words from you, a priest of Jesu!" answered the woman,
warding him off by the scathing scorn of her tones. "Did not Jesu say,
'Come unto Me and drink, drink out of My veins as ye do in Holy
Sacrament?' Will He curse and kill, then, for drinking the water which
you need, because a dog has fallen into it?"
These words, following the awe awakened by her unexpected appearance,
stayed the rage of the crowd for a moment. But soon the murmur rose
again--
"To the well!"
"He is a murderer!"
"It is just to take vengeance on a murderer!"
The woman raised her hand as if invoking the witness of Heaven to her
cause, and exclaimed--
"But _I_ am not a murderer. A curse on him who slays the innocent. I
will be the sacrifice. I fear not to drink of this well with my dying
gasp. Unhand the man, or, as sure as Heaven sees me, I shall die for
him!"
A shudder of horror ran through the crowd as the light form of the
young woman raised itself to the very brink of the well. It seemed as
if a movement, or a cry, would precipitate her into the black abyss.
The crowd was paralyzed. The silence of the dead fell upon them, as
she leaned forward for the awful plunge.
Those holding Constantine let go their grip.
At this moment the commandant appeared. He had, indeed, been a silent
witness of the scene, and was not unwilling that the superstition of
the soldiers should thus have a vent, thinking that with the sacrifice
of the supposed offender they might be satisfied, and led to believe
that the spirit of the well was appeased. He hoped that thus they
might be induced to drink the water. But he recoiled from permitting
the sacrifice of this innocent person, lest it should blacken the
curse already impending.
"I will judge this case," he cried. "Man, who are you?"
"I bear you orders from General Castriot," replied Constantine,
handing him a document.
By the light of a torch the officer read,
"In the event of being unable to hold out, signal and make a
sally according to directions to be given verbally by the
bearer.
CASTRIOT."
Turning to the crowd, the commandant addressed them.
"Brave men! Epirots and Dibrians! We are being led into some mistake.
My message makes it evident that on this man's life depends the life
of every one of us----"
His voice was drowned by wild cries that came from a distant part of
the town. The cries were familiar enough to all their ears; but they
had heretofore heard them only from beneath the walls without. They
were the Turkish cries of assault. "Allah! Allah! Allah! Allah!"
rolled like a hurricane along the streets of Sfetigrade. The gates had
been thrown open by some Dibrian, whom superstition and a
thirst-fevered brain had transformed into a traitor.
"Quick!" cried Constantine. "Fire three powder flashes from the
bastion, and follow me."
"Brave girl!" said he to Morsinia, grasping her hand and drawing her
toward the citadel.
"It is too late!" replied the commandant. "All the ports are occupied
by the enemy. We can but die in the streets."
"To the north gate, then! Burst it open, and cut your way to the east.
Castriot will meet you there. I will to the bastion."
"We must go with them," said Morsinia. "Better die in the streets than
be taken here."
"No, you shall not die, my good angel. I have prepared for this.
First, I will fire the signal." In a few seconds three flashes
illumined the old battlements.
Returning to Morsinia, he said quietly, "I have prepared for this,"
and unwound from about his body a strong cord, looped at intervals so
that it could be used for a ladder. Fastening this securely, he
dropped the end over the wall. Descending part way himself, he opened
the loops one by one for the feet of his companion; and thus they
reached a narrow ledge some twenty feet below the parapet. From this
to the next projection broad enough to stand upon, the rock was steep
but slanting; so that, while one could not rest upon it, it would
largely overcome the momentum of the descent. Fastening a cord
securely beneath the arms of Morsinia, he let her down the slope to
the lower ledge. Then, tying the rope to that above, he descended
himself to her side. From this point the path was not dangerous to one
possessed of perfect presence of mind, and accustomed to balance the
body on one foot at a time. Thanks to her mountain life, and the
strong stimulus to brain and nerve acquired by her familiarity with
danger, Morsinia was undizzied by the elevation. Thus they wound their
way toward the east side of the wall; and, as they neared the base of
the cliff, sat down to reconnoitre.
Above them frowned the walls of the citadel. Just beneath them were
many forms, moving like spectres in the darkness which was fast
dissolving into the gray morning twilight. The voices which came up to
their ears proved that they were Turks. For Morsinia to pass through
them without detection would be impossible. To remain long where they
were would be equally fatal.
But their anxiety was relieved by a well known bugle-call. At first it
sounded far away to the north.
"Iscanderbeg! Iscanderbeg!" cried the Turks, as they were deployed to
face the threatening assault. But scarcely had they formed in their
new lines when the sound, as of a storm bursting through a forest,
indicated that the attack was from the south.
Taking the Turks who were still outside the walls at a disadvantage,
Castriot's force made terrible havoc among them, sweeping them back
pell-mell past the eastern front and around the northern, so as to
leave the north gate clear for the escape of any who might emerge
from it.
But, alas, for the valor of the commandant and the noble men who
followed him! few succeeded in cutting their way through the swarm of
enemies that had already occupied the streets of Sfetigrade.
This movement, however, enabled Constantine and Morsinia to descend
from their dangerous eyrie. The apparition of their approach from that
direction was a surprise to the general.
"Why, man, do you ride upon bats and night-hawks, that you have flown
from yonder crag? I shall henceforth believe in Radisha and his
beautiful demon. And may I pray thy care for myself in battle, my fair
lady?"