The corps of Janizaries had been quartered at some distance from the
main body of the Turks. Their new Aga comprehended at once the
significance of the turmoil in the camp, and hastened to the defence.
Though he moved rapidly, and with a well conceived plan of confronting
the enemy, yet, most of his troops being foot-soldiers, he was unable
to confront the swift-riding squadrons of Scanderbeg. These assailants
withdrew from the field, but only to return again and again upon the
panic stricken Turks, whose fears had magnified the numbers of their
foes into scores of thousands. So rapidly did assault follow assault,
and from such diverse quarters, that the Moslem fright imagined one
attack was headed by the terrible Ivan Beg with his savage
Montenegrins, and another by Hunyades, a report of whose alliance with
Scanderbeg had reached the camps before the battle. Indeed the rumble
of a coming thunder storm was interpreted into the clamor and tread of
unknown myriads ready to burst through the mountains. Never did a more
insane panic steal away the courage of soldiers and the judgment of
generals. Late in the day the plain of Pharsalia was the scene of one
vast wreck. Overturned tents displayed immense stores of burnished
arms and vestments, provisions of need and luxury, standards for the
field and banners for the pageant; and everywhere strewn amid this
debris of pomp and pride the half-armored bodies of the slaughtered
Turks. In narrow mountain valleys the freshet following the sudden
tempest, never changed the bloom of the summer gardens more
completely, than this panic, following Scanderbeg's raid, changed the
splendid camp of the morning into the desolation upon which the
setting sun cast, as a fitting omen, its red rays. Indeed, we can
conceive no similitude by which to express the contrast better than
that of Amesa himself, in the morning adorned in the splendor of his
royal expectation, and at night lying bound with ropes at the feet of
Scanderbeg.
The grand old chieftain looked at the renegade for a moment with pity
and scorn; then turned away, saying,--
"Let him lie there until Captain Constantine, to whom he belongs,
shall come."
But Constantine came not. Though the main body of the Turks had taken
to precipitate flight, the Janizaries had managed, by their unbroken
and orderly retreat, to cover the rear, and prevent pursuit by
Scanderbeg. Ballaban had reached the group engaged in the capture of
Amesa, and almost rescued him. This would have been accomplished had
not Constantine and a handful of his company made a living wall
between the Janizaries and those who were leading away the miserable
man. Ballaban, feeling the responsibility of saving him whom he had
led into this shameful misfortune, pressed to the very front.
"By the sword of the Prophet! the fellow fights bravely," he
exclaimed, as he watched Constantine, baffling a half dozen
Janizaries who were pressing upon him.
"Back, men! I would measure my arm against his," he cried, as he laid
his sword against that of his unknown antagonist.
Both were in complete armor, their faces concealed by the closed
helmets. The soldiers stood as eager spectators of the masterly sword
play. The two men seemed evenly matched,--the same in stature and
build. There was, too, a surprising similarity in movement--the very
tactics of the Janizary in thrust and parry being repeated by the
Albanian; their swords now flashing like interlacing flames; the sharp
ring as the Albanian smote upon the polished metal of his antagonist's
armor, answered by the duller thud as the Janizary's blow fell upon
the thick leather which encased the panoply of his opponent. Then both
stood as if posing for the sculptor; their sword points crossing;
their eyes glaring beneath the visors; the slightest movement of a
muscle anticipated by either--then again the crash.
But Constantine was exhausted by his previous engagement with Amesa.
In an unlucky moment the sword turned in his hand. The steadiness of
the grip was lost. He managed to ward the blow which the Aga
delivered; but, foreseeing that he could not recover his grasp soon
enough to return it, and that his opponent was thrown slightly off his
perfect poise by his exertion, he dropped his sword, and closed with
him. They fell to the ground; but the Aga, more alert at the instant,
was uppermost, and his dagger first in position for the fatal cut.
"I can not slay so valiant a man as you," said Ballaban. "You
surrender?"
"I must," was the response. As they rose, Ballaban looked a moment
upon the vanquished, and said,
"I would know the name of my worthy antagonist, for worthier I never
found. Scanderbeg himself could not have done better. But I had the
advantage of being in better wind at the start, or, Allah knows, I had
fared hard."
"It is enough that I am your prisoner," said Constantine, "and that I
have detained my conqueror long enough to prevent the recapture of
that Albanian traitor, Amesa. You can have me willingly, now that you
cannot have him."
The Albanian threw up his visor. Ballaban stared at the face. It was
as familiar as his own which he saw daily in the polished brass
mirror. The Janizaries stared with almost equal amazement.
"No wonder he fought so well, Aga!" said one, "for he is thy other
self."
"Let him be brought to our headquarters when we halt," said Ballaban,
remounting his horse, and dashing away to another part of the field.