FUGITIVES.
“Maurice, it isn’t true! You are not sending us away and staying
here yourself?”
“My dear Zoe, it’s the only thing to be done. But I foresee that my
hair will be grey before it is done.”
“But don’t you see that when we have held out so long---- Oh, Maurice,
we came for the sake of the cause, and we don’t want to forsake it
when it has failed. We don’t mean to go away and be saved without
you.”
“Don’t you think I know that? But when the only thing you can do for
me is to go quietly----? There’s Con, you know. We couldn’t let the
little chap be killed without trying to save him, could we? And you
will have to help look after him, see that he doesn’t quite forget me,
don’t you know?”
“I hate Eirene!” cried Zoe passionately.
“No, don’t say that. She is awfully cut up--didn’t realise how near we
were to the end of all things, of course. I say, Zoe, you mustn’t
visit this on her. It’s not her fault really, and I want you two to
stick together. If you say to yourself--I mean, if you remember--if it
occurs to you, don’t you know?--that I--I cared for her, perhaps it
might make it easier.”
“It won’t, because she has treated you so shamefully.”
“At least she has promised to do the last thing I shall ask her, and
you won’t.”
“Oh, Maurice, of course I will! Oh, what a shame! you have made me
promise. But, my dear boy----”
“Maurice!” the curtain at the door was lifted, and Eirene came in,
very pale and quiet. “I want to know who is to go with us to-night.
They say that the way to Ephestilo is blocked, and that we shall have
to go round.”
“Wylie thought Zeko would be the best man to command the escort,” said
Maurice, guessing that Wylie was within hearing; “and we shall pick
out six of our best men to go with him.”
“It is not enough,” said Eirene imperiously. “I mean, we must have a
European. We may come on the Roumis anywhere. You must send Colonel
Wylie with us.”
“Of course, the very thing!” said Maurice, with almost too ready
acquiescence. “I’ll tell him he is to go.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Wylie, appearing in the doorway; “but I have
a voice in the matter, and I am not going. You will find Zeko quite
trustworthy, Princess, and he knows the way as well as I do.”
“It is not fitting,” persisted Eirene. “Maurice, I decline to go
unless we are properly escorted.”
“Your husband commands here, ma’am,” said Wylie sharply. “If it is his
order that you are to go, go you will.”
“Not at all. Are you not teaching me to defy him at this very moment,
Colonel Wylie? I can quite believe you are capable of sending me away
by force, but I may remind you that if I chose to scream or struggle,
all your plans would be betrayed.”
Wylie turned away impatiently. “You may say what you like, ma’am, but
I am not going.”
“Not if I ask it, Wylie?” said Maurice.
“No,” was the gruff reply. “You are plotting to save me from whatever
happens to you, and I won’t have it.”
“‘I will be drowned, and nobody shall save me,’” quoted Maurice, in a
perplexity so hopeless that it became humorous. “Look at it sensibly,
old man. Can’t you realise what a comfort it would be to me to know
that the girls had some one to look after them?”
“I stay here to look after you.” Wylie was unmoved.
“But you are on the sick list. Really, you wouldn’t add to our
fighting strength much, you know, and if we succeed in surrendering
before Nilischeff does it for us, your presence would complicate
matters horribly. You are a meddlesome foreigner, you see, without
even as much right here as I have. To make things easier--as a favour
to me----”
“Don’t ask favours, Maurice; give your orders!” cried Eirene, her
voice high and harsh. “You realise, if Colonel Wylie doesn’t, that we
may never reach Ephestilo, and that we must not fall into the hands of
the Roumis. Do you see now, both of you? Neither Constantine nor Zoe
nor I--no descendant of John Theophanis--must fall into the hands of
the Roumis.”
“Wylie, you see?” cried Maurice passionately. “How could I put such a
responsibility into the hands of Zeko?”
“For God’s sake, don’t put it into mine!” cried Wylie in horror. “Go
yourself, and leave me here.”
“I can’t, and you know it. Wylie, you must go. You are the only man I
can trust in a thing of this kind.”
Wylie looked round him with hunted eyes, as though seeking a way of
escape. Then, with a groan, “All right. I’ll go,” he said.
“I knew you would. Thanks, old man.”
“And after all,” said Zoe, trying to keep her lips from trembling as
she spoke, “we may meet the party from the ship quite soon, and then
Colonel Wylie can come back at once to you, Maurice.”
“Ah, of course. That I will,” said Wylie.
“Only if you have handed them over safely,” said Maurice. “Don’t let
me see you again if you can’t do that.”
“All right. We start as soon as it is dusk, then.” His voice had
regained its usual tones as he turned to Eirene and Zoe. “Put on
native shoes, and dark clothes, if you have them--handkerchiefs on
your heads instead of hats, like the women here. No luggage, of
course. I will give you the blue lights,” he added to Maurice. “You
must burn them on the gateway at half-hour intervals, without fail. If
the Emathians object, tell them it is a signal of distress, a last
appeal for help from the Admirals. You must keep our absence a secret,
of course. I will have the men we are to take with us put on guard, so
that they can get away without being seen.”
How the hours of that dreadful day wore themselves away, none of the
people chiefly affected could have told. By far the most cheerful was
Maurice, over whom the impending doom hung most certainly. Eirene was
filled with a passionate remorse, which it was now too late to prove
save by the promptest acquiescence in anything her husband suggested,
and Wylie went about like a man under sentence of death. As for Zoe,
the active imagination which had played such a large part in her
history ran riot now in scenes and possibilities of horror, until she
could only restore herself to some measure of calmness by the sage
reflection that nothing in all her life had ever proved as terrible as
she had pictured it beforehand. The only humorous element in the day’s
doings was furnished by Zeko and his six men, who objected as strongly
as did Wylie to being sent out of the way of danger, and could only be
induced to go by the promise that they should return with him when the
ladies had been placed in safety.
It was more difficult now to leave the monastery secretly than it had
been when the adventurers reached Hagiamavra, for the hills round it
were no longer solitary, but dotted with the huts and tents and
camp-fires of the insurgents and refugees, who were crowding closer to
this central point as the lines were tightened round them. Maurice was
naturally the chief object of interest to these people, and he
concentrated their attention on himself by preparing to start with his
guards, shortly before dusk, for the breastwork on which the Maxim had
been mounted the day before, to resume the defence as soon as the
armistice expired. The malcontents under Nilischeff, their occupation
gone by the loss of the line they should have defended, hung about
sullenly until he ordered them away to strengthen other weak points,
and begging women and wailing children, demanding vainly the food
which he had not to give them, watched the departure of the forlorn
hope. For that it was a forlorn hope there could be no doubt. The
Roumi seizure of the ravine between the monastery and Ephestilo had
driven a wedge into the heart of the defences, and no one knew better
than Maurice that at any moment he might be stabbed in the back by his
own men. But his business was to keep matters going somehow until the
morning, and then to obtain such terms as he could for the poor
starving people around.
Through the open doors of the great gateway the monastery guards could
be seen sitting round their fire in the courtyard, Eirene and Zoe were
on the gallery to wave farewell to Maurice, and Wylie was clearly
visible in the background, doing something to the remaining Maxim. No
one could have imagined that they had any intention of leaving the
place that night, but in an hour all was changed. Slipping out one by
one from the small door at the side of the gateway, the fugitives
assembled in the shadow, while the fire in the courtyard was
diligently kept up by Armitage’s steward, who had volunteered to
remain for this special purpose, so that the light might continue to
be visible to the people encamped outside. He was also charged with
the care of the blue lights, the first of which shed a ghastly glare
about an hour later over the rugged landscape and the awestruck
upturned faces of the refugees. They interpreted it as a supernatural
portent of disaster, a sign of the divine wrath such as preceded the
fall of Jerusalem, and a chorus of mingled shrieks and wailing arose,
until the steward, much irritated, roused two lay brethren forcibly
from their slumbers, and sent them to calm the people with the news
that the terrible lights were the sign of safety rather than of ruin.
The fugitives were well beyond the range of the light when the glare
first broke out. Zeko went in advance, to make sure of a path, since
to stumble over a sleeping refugee would have been to wreck all hope,
then three of his men, then Eirene, carrying little Constantine in a
shawl wrapped round her, and Zoe, to whom she resolutely refused
permission to share the burden, while the rear was brought up by
Wylie, walking feebly with the aid of a stick, and the other three
insurgents. The levels and plateaus were necessarily avoided, and the
way led down dry torrent-beds, and up steep hillsides covered with
thickets of sweet-smelling shrubs, where the only thing to be heard,
besides the soft footfalls of the party, was the chirp of the
grasshopper. There was no moon, which was an advantage in one way and
a drawback in another, but Zeko was well accustomed to finding his way
by the stars, and he led on almost without a pause until, halting on a
ridge after a specially exhausting climb, his followers became aware
of a sound which was not that of their own labouring breath.
“Down! down!” hissed Zeko, and they crouched under the bushes from
which they had just emerged, while the guide beckoned Wylie to him.
Together they crawled forward, and were lost to sight for a time which
seemed interminable to the two women, who could now distinguish
clearly the sound of muffled footsteps on the other side of the ridge.
Constantine, who had been inclined to be unduly talkative in the
surprise of this night-journey, went to sleep in his mother’s arms
with a murmur of content, and they waited with what patience they
might, the guards lying round them, with itching fingers on the
triggers of their rifles. At last Wylie returned.
“The Roumis are more enterprising than we thought them,” he said.
“They are evidently sending a force up to act against the monastery
from this side, so we shall have to change our route a little, and try
to cross their line of march when they have passed.”
This meant a tedious working along the top of the slope among the
bushes, ready to drop down under their shadow at a word, thus pursuing
a course parallel with that of the advancing Roumis, but in the
reverse direction. After a while, the friendly ridge sank into a
confusion of hillocks and ravines, and here it was necessary to
proceed even more carefully, since any moment might bring them face to
face with Roumi stragglers who had taken a wrong turning in the dark.
The danger was so great that Zeko bore away gradually more to the
left, away from the line of march, despite the remonstrances of Wylie,
who urged that they were getting into a region neither of them knew,
and that it would be wiser to wait for a while, until the enemy was
quite out of hearing. But Zeko was so confident of his ability to find
his way, and so resolutely determined to keep moving, lest time should
be wasted, that he still pressed on, leading his unfortunate charges
such a dance, up hill and down dale, that it was with positive
physical relief they heard him at last confess he did not know where
he was, and that it would be well to wait for daylight before going
farther, lest they should run into the midst of the enemy. They were
now in a well-wooded, or rather well-bushed, ravine, and he suggested
that they should conceal themselves in the undergrowth and snatch what
rest they could. Wylie agreed perforce, for the long hours of
scrambling had told upon him so much that he could scarcely stand, and
he advised Zoe and Eirene to pull their head-handkerchiefs over their
faces, so as to save themselves from scratches, and work their way in
under the bushes. The guards were already doing this, and a sudden
exclamation, followed by a string of prayers in a strange voice, made
Wylie and Zeko angrily order silence.
“It is a man, lord!” they answered, crawling out again and dragging
with them a dishevelled figure, who was gradually identified, when his
terror had a little subsided, as a goatherd named Mikhaili. His hut
was situated in these ravines, he told them, and thinking it was safe
from molestation by reason of its solitude, he and his family had
remained there instead of seeking refuge near the monastery, the more
so since they were able to live as usual on the produce of their
flock, which must have been given up into the common stock if they had
joined the rest. But this night they had not ventured to remain
indoors, for they had seen Roumis quite close at hand, and though they
were far too much terrified to watch them continuously, they could
hear them moving about, now in one direction, now in another. The hut
had escaped notice in the darkness, he thought, but he and his wife
and children were all hiding in the bushes, believing that it would
certainly be discovered when daylight came.
“We seem to have blundered into the thick of them,” said Wylie, as
cheerfully as he could. “Who would have thought of their making night
marches all over the place like this? Well, we are quite hidden among
these bushes, so I hope you ladies will get what sleep you can. We
shall keep a good watch, so don’t be afraid.”
Anxious only to give as little trouble as possible, Zoe and Eirene
obeyed, so far as lying down and trying to sleep went. But Zoe could
not sleep, tired as she was, for she felt convinced that Wylie was
keeping watch himself. At length she could bear the thought no longer,
and wriggled to the entrance of her burrow, so that she could get a
glimpse of him. As she had expected, he was sitting on a stone, with
his rifle between his knees, but something strange in his attitude
made her look at him more closely. He was crouched in a heap, his eyes
wide open and glassy, and his hands had relaxed their hold in complete
unconsciousness. Afraid to raise her voice to call Zeko, Zoe crawled
out of her hole and took the rifle gently away without disturbing
Wylie. He murmured a little incoherently when she tried to move him,
and in terror lest he should cry out, she ventured to speak softly,
hoping he would think he was in hospital again, and she a nurse.
“Let me help you to lie down more easily,” she said in a low voice. “I
don’t think your pillow is comfortable, is it?”
She could not have moved him if he had remained obstinate, but with
his own unconscious help she succeeded in getting him to lie down,
with the stone for a pillow, and covering him with the cloak she had
worn. Then she took the rifle, and set herself to keep watch in his
place, unable, even in the circumstances of the moment, to restrain a
bitter little smile at the thought, “How frightfully angry he would be
if he knew!” To her great joy she felt no inclination for sleep, and
she sat there, guarding the rest, and growing stiffer and stiffer with
the night cold, until the first faint streaks of dawn appeared, and
Zeko came crawling out from under the bushes. He expressed no surprise
at finding her on guard, after her low-voiced explanation that the
Lord Glafko was ill again. It was only suitable that women should keep
watch while their protectors slept; in fact, it was all they could do
to repay the kind care taken of them. Wylie was now in a natural
sleep, and it went to Zoe’s heart to let Zeko wake him, which he did
when she had crawled back into her burrow, but the few precious
minutes of grey twilight must not be lost if they were to pass safely
through this danger-zone. While Zeko went to the top of the hill to
see if he could distinguish where they were, Wylie woke the other
guards, and all were ready to start when the guide should return.
There was a moment’s pause while Mikhaili crept up with an offering of
goat’s-milk cheese, and a draught of milk in a leathern cup for little
Constantine, and while the rest were eagerly consuming the gift of
this Good Samaritan, Zeko, returning, drew Wylie aside and up the
hill. There was a look of awe upon the ex-brigand’s face which Wylie
did not understand until he had been bidden to kneel down and look
through a gap between two rocks. On the other side of the hill,
literally only a few yards from them, a number of Roumi soldiers lay
asleep. Whether they were an outlying picket or stragglers from the
larger force,--the confused way in which they were strewn about
favoured this supposition,--the fact remained that the two parties had
spent the night so near one another that a cry or an altercation in
one camp must have roused its neighbour. Zeko, in a heart-felt
whisper, vowed an extravagant gift of candles to the Prophet Elijah,
patron saint of hills, for his services that night, and he and Wylie
rejoined the rest. Mikhaili, warned of the nearness of the foe, and
invited to call his wife and children and accompany the fugitives,
refused to do so. Here they might hope to escape notice, he said, but
the way to Ephestilo would lead from one danger to another. He put
them in the right path--if that could be called a path which must
avoid all tracks, since the Roumis might be making use of them--and
they parted with mutual good wishes.
The sleeping Roumis were passed in safety, and for a while the way was
uneventful, though rugged and difficult enough, while the bushes
lasted, so convenient for concealment. But they ended suddenly, and
the bare rocks made every movement of the party horribly conspicuous.
Still, even in this change in the character of the country there was
hope, since it showed they must be approaching the sea, and therefore
Ephestilo, and Zoe and Eirene shook off their weariness and pressed on
manfully. Thus they came to a height from which they could see the
blue waters, and a sigh of relief broke from them. But between them
and the sea there was still some distance to be traversed, and when
they looked down on the country that lay beneath them, their hearts
stood still. Everywhere twinkling darts of light as the sun sparkled
on bayonet-points, everywhere dots of scarlet which betrayed
themselves as red _tarbushes_.
“A cordon!” burst from Wylie. “They are hemming our people in. This
means massacre.”
“Down, lord, down!” cried Zeko, dragging Wylie to his knees. “There
are some of them behind us!”
For a moment they waited with beating hearts, hoping against hope that
the figures on the sky-line had not been seen--a hope that was cut
short by the swish of a bullet and a shout of triumph that the range
had been found so nearly. Wylie raised himself sharply.
“Roll these stones together,” he said, setting the example himself.
“We can hold out some time behind a sangar here.”
“Nay, lord!” came in protesting tones from Zeko and his men. “The
accursed who are behind us cannot reach this hill for many minutes,
and it will shield us from their fire. Let us rather slay the women
and steal down towards the line of the miscreants in front. Then we
can throw ourselves upon them and kill many more than our own number.”
“Be quiet!” said Wylie roughly. “Demo, that stone.”
The man obeyed, without enthusiasm, and the loose rocks were piled
into a rough breastwork, through the interstices of which the rifles
could be fired. When it was finished, Zoe crept up to Wylie, her whole
frame vibrating with indignation.
“You won’t let them touch us?” she panted. “If it has to be done, you
will do it yourself?”
“Don’t--don’t ask me!” His voice was full of entreaty, but Zoe was
pitiless.
“You must,” she persisted. “Why, from you---- You know,” she broke off
suddenly, “you hate us all.”
“If I did, it would be easy enough to do it. You know well enough it
isn’t that. It’s--the very opposite.”
“Then I have a right to ask you to do it. You promise?”
“Good God, yes!” he groaned.