The splendor of the victory, and the inestimable spoil which fell into
the hands of the Albanians, elated the patriot braves; and the good
news flew as if the eagles that watched the battles from afar were its
couriers. Castriot, however, seemed to be oblivious to the general
rejoicing. The wrath he had displayed during the time of Amesa's
menace from the ranks of the enemy, was displaced by pity as he looked
upon the contemptible and impotent man. He touched him with his foot,
and said, in half soliloquy--
"And in this body is some of the blood of the Castriots! Humph!"
Turning away he paced the tent--
"And why not Castriot's blood in Amesa! It is not too immaculate to
flow in his veins, since it has filled my own. I was a Turk, too,
once. But----" looking at the wrinkles upon his hand--"growing old in
a better service may atone somewhat for the shame of earlier days. And
these hands never murdered a peaceful neighbor and his innocent wife,
and robbed a child of her inheritance--though they did murder that
poor Reis-Effendi. But God knows it could not be helped. But what is
one man that he shall condemn another!" An officer approached for
orders.
"What, Sire, shall be done with the prisoner?"
"Let him lie until Constantine comes!" was the response.
Late in the night the general sat gazing upon the miserable heap of
humanity that crouched by the tent side. Amesa raised himself as far
as his bonds would permit, and began to speak.
"Silence!" demanded Castriot, but without taking his eyes from the
prisoner.
A subaltern, anxious to induce the general to take needed rest, again
suggested some disposition of the prisoner for the night.
"Let him lie until Constantine comes!"
"Captain Constantine has been captured, Sire," replied the officer;
"men who were with him have returned, and so report."
"By whom captured?" asked the general in alarm.
"By Janizaries."
Castriot smiled, and asked, "It is certain he was not slain?"
"Certain, Sire, for Ino saw him being taken away."
"Let the prisoner lie there until Captain Constantine returns."
The morning found Amesa still bound. No one had been allowed to speak
to him, nor he to utter a word.
During Castriot's absence from the tent not one approached it; only
the guard patrolled at the distance of a couple of rods.
"The torture of such a villain's thoughts will be more cruel than our
taunts or swords. Let him lie there, and tear himself with his own
devil claws!" had been Castriot's order.
Toward noon the camp rang with cheers. Scouts reported that
Constantine had escaped, and was returning. Castriot alone seemed
unsurprised, though gratified with the news. He went to the edge of
the camp to meet him.
"Well, my boy, your brother was not so well pleased with your looks,
and let you go sooner than I thought he would. I expected you not
until to-night."
"My brother? How knew you, Sire, that I had seen him? for I have told
it to none."
"Then tell it to none. To warn you of that I came to meet you, lest
your tongue might be unwise. Did you not tell me yourself that
Ballaban was the Moslem name of your brother?"
"But how knew you that he was in this service?" asked Constantine.
"As I know every officer in the enemy's service in Albania above an
ojak's command. And the Aga of the Janizaries is to my mind as the
commander of the expedition. And I will tell you more, my boy;--unless
the Padishah has gone daft with his chagrin over this defeat, Ballaban
Aga will command the next campaign against us: for none save he kept
his wits in the fight yesterday. His plan was masterful, and saved the
whole Moslem army. He held his Janizaries so well in hand, and so well
placed, that I could not follow up our advantage, nor even strike to
rescue you. Ballaban evidently has been much in the Albanian wars, and
has learned my methods better than any of our own officers. Should he
succeed to the horse-tails, the war hereafter will not be so one-sided
as it has been. Mark that, my dear fellow. But we must look to our
royal prisoner, after I have heard your story."
Late in the day Castriot summoned Moses Goleme, Kabilovitsch, and
Constantine. Amesa was unbound, and was bidden to speak what he could
in extenuation of his treason. The Voivode protested his innocence of
any designs against the liberties of his country; and declared that he
had despaired of obtaining her independence under Castriot's
leadership. Better was it to take the virtual freedom of Albania under
the Sultan's nominal suzerainty, than to longer wage a hopeless war.
In this he was seconded, he said, by the noblest generals and
patriots. He was about to mention them; but was forbidden to utter so
much as a suspicion against any one.
"I would not know them," said the magnanimous chief. "I will not have
a shadow of distrust in my mind toward any who have not drawn sword
against us. Let them keep their thoughts in their own breasts. Noble
Moses, your lips shall pronounce the sentence due Amesa's treason."
The Dibrian general was silent.
"Then, if Moses speaks no condemnation, no other lips shall," said
Castriot.
Amesa threw himself at the feet of the chief, and began to pour forth
his gratitude.
"The life thou hast spared, Sire, shall ever be thine. My sword shall
be given to thee as sovereign of my heart, as well as of my country."
"Hold!" said Castriot. "What says Arnaud, the forester?"
Amesa raised his face, blanched as suddenly with horror as it had been
flushed with elation. The venerable Kabilovitsch sat in silence for a
time, lost in the vividness of his recollections. At length, with slow
speech and tremulous voice, he portrayed the scenes of that terrible
night when the castle of the gallant De Streeses was destroyed, its
owner slain, the fair Mara driven back into the flames from which she
would have fled.
"It is a lie," shouted Amesa. "The deed was wrought by Turks!"----
"Thy words condemn thee!" said Castriot. "The crime was not laid to
thy charge, Amesa. But now it shall be. Let Drakul be brought."
Soldiers led in the man. The villain, whose hand had stayed at no deed
of daring or cruelty, was now seized with such cowardly fright that he
could scarce keep his legs. He was dragged before the extemporized
court. In answer to questions, he admitted his part, not only in the
original murders, but also in the raid upon the hamlet where Amesa had
suspected the heiress of De Streeses to be concealed.
Amesa's rage at this betrayal burst forth in savage oaths, mingled
with such contradictory denials of his story as clearly confirmed its
truth.
"For his treason against my authority, I refuse to take vengeance,"
said Castriot. "But Albania, appealing for God's aid in establishing
its liberties, must, in God's name, do justice. What says Colonel
Kabilovitsch?"
The old man spoke as if the solemnity of the Last Judgment had fallen
upon him,--
"As soon I must go before Him whose mercy I shall so sadly need for
the sins of my own life, I forgive Amesa the cruelty with which he has
followed me. God is my witness, that my personal grievance colors not
a thought of my heart. But, as I shall soon stand before the Judge,
together with the noble De Streeses, who was robbed of life in its
meridian, and that bright spirit whose cry for Amesa's mercy I heard
from out the flames, I say, Let justice be done! and let the soul of
the murderer be sent to confront his victims there before their God!"
"Amen!" said Constantine. Moses Goleme was silent.
Amesa had lost all his bravado. He trembled as would the meanest of
men who should bow his neck to the sword. He confessed his crime, and
piteously begged for his life; or, at least, that time should be given
him to make preparation for what he dreaded worse than death. A spirit
already damned seemed to have taken possession of his quivering frame.
"Your life, Amesa," said the chief, "is forfeit for your crimes. On
the citadel walls of Croia, when we shall have returned there, as the
sun sets, so shall your life! Jesu grant that, through your
repentance and the prayers of Mother Church, your soul may rise again
in a better world!"
"Amen!" responded all.
The army returned from the Thessalian border through the country
northward, everywhere received with ovations by the people. The fate
of Amesa, though commiserated, was as generally commended. No one,
however attached by association to the once popular Voivode, raised a
voice in dissent from the sentence, or in pity for the culprit.