The news reached Morsinia at Croia long before the return of the army.
She took little joy in the hearty and generous acclaim that welcomed
her to her inheritance. She had no vanity to be stimulated by the
popular stories which associated her beauty with her wealth. Her
thoughts seemed to be palled with heaviness, rather than canopied by
the bright prospects which fortune had spread for her.
When Castriot officially announced to her the restoration of the
DeStreeses' property, she refused to enter upon her estates, which
were to come to her through the ceremony of blood in the execution of
her enemy.
"No! Let them be confiscate to the State. I cheerfully surrender their
revenues for Albania. I ask nothing more than to be the instrument of
so aiding our noble cause and its noble leader," said she.
"Albania will insist that you shall obtain your right. From voivode to
lowest peasant, the people will be content only as the daughter of
DeStreeses graces his ancient castle."
"But," responded she, "I shall never enter its doors over the body of
my enemy. May not some other fate be his?"
"Law should be sacred," said Castriot.
"But is it not a law of Albania that even a murderer need not be
executed if all the family of his victim unite in his behalf, and he
pay the Krwnina?[110] Am I not all the family of DeStreeses? Let then
the estates be the Krwnina."
"That cannot be," replied Castriot. "The law requires the price of
blood to be paid by the murderer, and the estates belong not to Amesa.
Besides, Albania will be better served by your occupation of the
castle, reviving its ancient prestige, and proclaiming thus that the
reign of justice has been restored in our land."
"But let justice be mingled with mercy," said Morsinia.
"Nay, the mercy would dilute the quality of the justice."
"Can there be no mitigation of our cousin Amesa's fate, which shall
not prejudice the right?" asked the fair intercessor. "If Jesu prayed
to his Father that His murderers might be forgiven, may not I plead
that my father, the father of his country, shall be gracious to him
who has wronged me?"
Castriot was absorbed in deep thought. At length he replied:
"Ah, how little we men, schooled to revenge and bloodshed, know what
justice is, and what mercy is, as these sentiments move in the heart
of the Eternal! Your pure soul, my child, has closer kinship with
heaven than ours. I fear to deny your request, lest I should offend
that mysterious Spirit which has seemed to counsel me since, in the
land of the Moslems, I swore to return to my Christian faith; and
which, in my prayers and dreams, has been strangely associated with
you. In all that is right and good your conscience shall still inspire
mine: for you are my good angel. Amesa's life shall be spared. But no
breath of his must so much as taint the air of Albania. I am summoned
by my old ally, Ferdinand of Naples, to assist in driving the French
from his domains. Amesa shall go with me, and be kept in custody among
strangers. But it must be proclaimed from the citadel of Croia that
his life is restored him by the daughter of Musache de Streeses.
"And yet, my dear child," continued he, "in these rude times you
cannot dwell alone in the castle. You need a protector who is not only
wise and brave, and loyal to Albania, but loyal to you. My duties
elsewhere will prevent my rendering that service. Colonel
Kabilovitsch's age is stealing the alertness from his energies. Our
Constantine--Ah! Does the blush tell that I am right?" He took her
hand, as he asked: "May I exercise the father's privilege, according
to our Albanian custom, and put this hand into Constantine's, to keep
and to defend?"
Morsinia replied frankly. "Since, Sire, I may not give my estates to
my country, bestow them upon whom you will; and my hand must go to
him, who, since we were children, has held my heart."
The following day, as the sun gilded the walls of Croia with his
setting rays, an immense concourse of soldiers and peasants gathered
within the citadel court. The executioner led the traitor, followed by
a priest, out upon the bastion. A trumpet sounded, and the silence
which followed its dying note was broken by the voice of the crier,
who announced that, in the name of God and the sovereign people, and
by the ordaining of George, Duke of Albania, the decree of justice
should be executed upon the Voivode Amesa. Then followed the record of
his crimes, together with the declaration that his appearance in arms
among the enemy, having been, according to his declaration, not
treason against his country, but rebellion against the military
chieftaincy of Duke George, was by the grace of that high official
forgiven; and further that the sentence of death for his foul murder
of Musache De Streeses and his wife Mara Cernoviche, was, through the
intercession of Mara, sole survivor of that ancient house, and by the
authority of Duke George, commuted to perpetual banishment from the
realm, in such place and condition as seemed best to the Duke for the
security of the land.
The people stood in amazement as they listened. The relief from the
horror of the anticipated spectacle, when the head of the former
favorite should be held up by the executioner, led them to accept
complacently this turn in affairs, even though their judgment did not
commend it. In a few moments the cry rose, "Live Duke George! A
Castriot forever!" Soon it changed to wilder enthusiasm, "Long live
Mara De Streeses!" This storm of applause could not be stilled until
Morsinia permitted herself to be led by Castriot to the edge of the
battlement.
As the sun was setting, the huge mass of the citadel rose like a
mighty altar from the bosom of the gloom which had already settled
about its base. Slowly the shadow had climbed its side, crowding the
last bright ray until it vanished from the top of the parapet. It was
at this instant that Morsinia appeared. The citadel beneath her was
sombre as the coming night which enwrapped it, but her form was
radiant in the lingering splendor of the departing day. As she raised
her hand in response to the grateful clamor of the people, she seemed
the impersonation of a heavenly benediction. The multitude gazed in
reverent silence for a moment. Then, as the sun dropped behind the
western hill, veiling the glory of this apparition, they made the very
sky resound with their shouts; and in the quick gathering darkness
went their ways.
A few weeks later, the castle of De Streeses was decked with banners,
whose bright colors rivalled the late autumnal hues of the forest from
the midst of which it rose. Multitudes of people all day long thronged
the paths leading up to it from the valleys around. Gorgeously arrayed
voivodes, accompanied by their suites, made the ravines resound with
their rattling armor; and bands of peasants, in cheap but gaudy
finery, threaded through the by paths. Those who possessed tents
brought them. Others, upon their arrival in the proximity of the
castle, erected booths and festooned them with vines, which the
advancing season had painted fiery red or burst into gray feathery
plumes. From cleared places near the castle walls rose huge spirals of
smoke, as oxen and sheep, quartered or entire, were being roasted, to
feed the multitude of guests; while great casks of foaming beer and
ruddy sparkling wine excited and slaked their thirst. The recent
defeat of the Turks had led to the withdrawal of their armies, at
least until winter should have passed; and the people of the northern
country gave themselves up to the double celebration of the well-won
peace and the nuptials of Mara De Streeses.
Within the castle the great and the dignified of the land abandoned
themselves to equal freedom with the peasants, in the enjoyment of
games, and the observance of simple and fantastic national customs.
Morsinia and Constantine kissed again through the ivy wreath, as in
the days of childhood. The new matron's distaff touched the oaken
walls of the great dining hall; and her hand spread the table with
bread and wine and water, in formal assumption of her office as
housewife. When she undressed and dressed again the babe, borrowed
from a neighboring cottage, she received sundry scoldings and many
saws of nursery advice from a group of peasant mothers. The happy
couple were almost buried beneath the buckets of grain, which some of
the guests poured over them, as they wished them all the blessings of
the soil. When they approached the fire place they were showered with
sparks, as some one struck the huge glowing log and invoked for them
the possession of herds and flocks and friends as many as the
fireflecks that flew.
Gifts were offered: those of the poor and rich being received with
equal grace;--a rare breed of domestic fowls following a case of
cutlery from Toledo in Spain; and a necklace of pearls preceding a
hound trained by some skillful hunter. On opening the casket which
Castriot presented, as he kissed the golden cluster upon the forehead
of the bride, there was found within a cap of sparkling gems, such as
is worn by oriental brides, a parchment commissioning Constantine as a
voivode in the Albanian service, with governor's command of the Skadar
country.
The blessing of the priest was supplemented by those of the old men,
which were put in form of prophecies. Kabilovitsch inclosed the happy
couple in outstretched arms, and gazing long into their faces, said:
"As on that night at the foot of the Balkans I wrapped you, my
children, in my blanket, and, in my absence, another greater than we
knew, our generous Castriot, took my place to watch over you; so now,
as soon I must leave you forever, One greater than man knows, even our
Covenant God, shall be your guardian!"
A man, apparently decrepit with the weight of years, assumed the
privilege of a venerable stranger upon such occasions, and came to
utter his prophecy. His head was covered with a close fitting fur
cap, which concealed his brow to the eyes. Straggling gray locks hung
partly over his face and down his neck. As he spoke, Constantine
started with evident amazement, which was, however, instantly checked.
The bride seemed strangely fascinated. Kabilovitsch, who had been too
much absorbed with his own thoughts to notice the stranger's approach,
lifted his head quickly, and put his hand to his ear, as if catching
some faint and distant sound. This was the old prophet's blessing--
"Allah ordains that these walls, consecrated to Justice, and inhabited
by Love, shall from this day be guarded by Peace. Even the Moslem's
sword shall be stayed from hence!"
He bowed to the floor, touching with his lips the spot where Morsinia
had stood. Before the guests could fully comprehend this scene, he was
gone. But lying on the floor where he had bowed was a silken case,
elegantly wrought. Morsinia uttered a subdued, yet startled, cry as
she seized it. The gift seemed to have thrown a spell about her; for,
with paled cheeks, she asked that she might retire to rest awhile in
her chamber.
"A wjeshtize!" cried several, looking out from the door through which
the man had passed.
"Heaven grant he has left no curse!" exclaimed others.
The silken case contained several crystals of atar of roses. In one of
these, which was larger than the others, gleamed, instead of the
perfumed drop, a splendid diamond. Upon a piece of parchment, as fine
as the silk of which the case was made, Morsinia read--
"My pledge to give my life for thine shall be kept when need
requires--Meanwhile know that the Padishah, the rightful
Lord of Albania, has bestowed this castle upon Ballaban
Badera, Aga of the Janizaries, who in turn bestows it upon
Mara De Streeses--
"Signed,
"MICHAEL."
* * * * *
Our story has covered a period of thirteen years. For eleven years
more the genius of Scanderbeg, which his perhaps too partial
countrymen used to compare to that of Alexander and Pyrrhus, withstood
the whole power of the Ottoman Empire, directed against him by the
most skilful generals of the age. Sinam and Assem, Jusem and Caraza,
Seremet and the puissant Sultan Mahomet himself successively appeared
in the field; but retreated, leaving their thousands of slain to
attest the invincibility of the Albanian chief. Only one Ottoman
commander ventured to return for a second campaign. The old Latin
chronicles of the monk Marinus Barletius--who records the deeds of
Castriot in thirteen volumes--assign this honorable distinction to the
Janizary, Ballaban Badera. In six campaigns this redoubtable warrior
desolated Albania. From Thessaly, northward over the land, poured the
Moslem tide, but it stayed itself at the waters of Skadar; and, as if
fate had approved the prophecy of the aged stranger at the nuptials of
Constantine and Morsinia, the castle of De Streeses during all these
terrible years, looked down upon bloodless fields. Though his lands
were ravaged, the courage of Castriot was not wearied, nor was his
genius baffled, until, in the year 1467, there came upon him a
mightier than Ballaban, a mightier than Mahomet. In the presence of
the last enemy he commended his country to the valor of his voivodes,
his family to the protection of friends,[111] and his soul to the
grace of Jesu, his Saviour. They buried him in the old church at
Lyssa. Years after, no Scanderbeg succeeding Scanderbeg, the Turks
possessed the land. They dug up his bones, and, inclosing their
fragments in silver and gold, wore them as amulets. Pashas and Viziers
esteemed themselves happy, even in subsequent centuries, if they might
so much as touch a bone of Scanderbeg; "For perchance," they said,
"there may thus be imparted to us some of that valor and skill which
in him were invincible by the might of men."
FOOTNOTES:
[110] The price of blood, generally 1000 piastres among the poorer
classes, which was paid by the culprit to the village where the crime
was committed, and by it paid to the general government.
[111] Castriot married late in life.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Captain of the Janizaries, by James M. Ludlow