A STRICKEN TOWN
We rode on, avoiding the village, which remained dark and silent; the
sleeping peasants had either not heard or not heeded the sound and shock
of the explosion.
When we regained the road on the further side, two mounted men awaited
us, who, after exchanging a few low-spoken words with the Pavloffs, fell
in behind us; and later another, and yet another, joined us in the same
way.
It must have been about one in the morning when we reached the village
half-way between Zizcsky and Zostrov, where Mishka and I had got the
last change of horses on our journey to the castle. Here again all was
dark and quiet, and we rode round instead of through the place, Loris
and I, with the Pavloffs, halting at a little distance, near a small
farmhouse which I remembered as that of the _starosta_, while our four
recruits kept on.
Mishka rode up and kicked at the outer gate. A light gleamed in the yard
and the _starosta_, yawning and blinking, appeared, holding a lantern
and leading a horse.
"The horses are ready? That is well, little father," Mishka said
approvingly.
"They have been ready since midnight, and the samovar also; you will
drink a glass of tea, Excellencies."
As he led out the other three horses in turn, a lad brought us steaming
glasses of tea, and I was glad of mine, anyhow; for the night, though
still and clear, was piercingly cold.
"The horses will come on, with four more recruits, after a couple of
hours' rest," said Loris, as we started again.
We kept up an even pace of about ten miles an hour till we had traversed
about half the remaining distance, picking up more silent men on little
shaggy country horses till we rode a band of some fifteen strong.
I think I must have fallen half asleep in my saddle when I was startled
by a quick exclamation from Loris.
"Look! What is yonder?"
I looked and saw a ruddy glow in the sky to northward,--a flickering
glow, now paling, now flashing up vividly and showing luminous clouds of
smoke,--the glow of a great fire.
"That is over Zizscky; it was to-night then, and we are too late!"
We checked instinctively, and the Pavloffs ranged alongside. We four,
being better mounted, were well ahead, and the others came straggling in
our rear.
"They were to defend the synagogue; we may still be in time to help,"
said Pavloff.
"True, we four must push on; these others must follow as they are able,
and tell the rest as they meet them. Give Stepan the word, Mishka,"
commanded the Duke.
Mishka wheeled his horse and rode back, and we pressed forward,
increasing the pace to a gallop. Within an hour we had covered the
twenty versts and were on the outskirts of the town. Every instant that
awful glow grew brighter, and when we drew near we saw that half the
houses in the Jewish quarter were ablaze, while horrible sounds came to
us,--the noise of a devils' orgy, punctuated irregularly by the crackle
of rifle shots.
"They are holding the synagogue," Loris said grimly. "Otherwise the
firing would be over by this time."
The straggling street that formed this end of the town was quiet and
deserted, save for a few scared women and children, who were standing in
the roadway, and who scurried back to their houses at the first sound of
our horses' hoofs.
"Dismount, and turn the horses loose!" Loris commanded. "We shall find
them later, perhaps; if not, well, we shall not!"
We hurried along on foot, and a minute or two later we entered the
Jewish quarter and were in the midst of a hellish scene, lighted luridly
by the glare of the burning houses. The road was strewn with battered
corpses, some lying in heaps; and burly _moujiks_, shrieking unsexed
viragoes, and brutal soldiers, maddened with vodka, delirious with the
lust of blood and pillage, were sacking the houses that were not yet
ablaze, destroying, in insensate fury, what they were unable to carry
off, fighting like demons over their plunder. Here and there were groups
of soldiers, who, though they were not joining in the work of
destruction, made no effort to check it, but looked on with grim jests.
I saw one present his rifle, fire haphazard into the crowd, and yell
with devilish mirth as his victim fell, and the confusion increased.
His laugh was cut short, for Loris knocked the rifle out of his hand,
and sternly ordered him back to the barracks, if that was all he could
do towards restoring order.
The man and his comrades stared stupidly. They did not know who he was,
but his uniform and commanding presence had their effect. The ruffians
stood at attention, saluted and asked for orders!
"Clear the streets," he commanded sternly. "Drive the people back to
their quarter and keep them there; and do it without violence."
He stood frowning, revolver in hand, and watched them move off with
sheepish alacrity and begin their task, which would not have been an
easy one if the soldiers had been under discipline. But there was no
discipline; I did not see a single officer in the streets that night.
"Are you wise?" Mishka growled unceremoniously, as we moved off. I saw
now that he and his father were also in uniform, and I surmise that
every one who saw us took the Grand Duke to be an officer in high
command, and us members of his staff.
We had our revolvers ready, but no one molested us, and as we made our
way towards the synagogue, Loris more than once repeated his commands
to the idle soldiers, with the same success.
Barzinsky's inn, where Mishka and I had slept less than a fortnight
back, was utterly wrecked, though the fire had not yet reached it, and
in a heap in the roadway was the corpse of a woman, clad in a dirty
bedgown. Her wig was gone and her skull battered in, but I knew it was
the placid, capable, good-tempered landlady herself. The stumps of her
hands lay palm down in a pool of blood,--all the fingers gone. She had
worn rings, poor soul.
But that was by no means the most sickening sight I saw on that night
of horror!
We reached the square where the synagogue stood, and found it packed
with a frenzied, howling mob, who were raging like wolves round the
gaunt weather-worn stone building. There was no more firing, either
from within or without.
The glass of the two small windows above the doorway--whence, as I
learned later, the defenders had delivered the intermittent fusilade
that had hitherto kept the mob at bay--was smashed, and the space filled
in with hastily fixed barricades. The great door was also doubtless
strongly barricaded, since it still withstood an assault with axes and
hammers that was in progress.
"They shoot no more; they have no more bullets," shrieked a virago in
the crowd. "Burn them out, the filthy _zhits_."
Others took up the cry.
"Burn them out; what folly to batter the door! Bring straw and wood;
burn them out!"
"Keep away,--work round to the left; there will be space soon," growled
Mishka, clutching me back, as I began to force my way forward. "Do as I
say," he added authoritatively.
I guessed he knew best, so I obeyed, and edged round on the outside of
the crowd.
Something whizzed through the air, and fell bang among the crowd,
exploding with a deafening report.
A babel of yells arose,--yells of terror now; and the mob surged back,
leaving a clear space in which several stricken figures were
writhing,--and one lay still.
"Fly!" shouted a stentorian voice. "They are making bombs and throwing
them; fly for your lives. Why should we all perish?"
I was carried back in the rush, and found myself breathless, back
against a wall. Three figures cleared themselves from the ruck, and I
fought my way to them.
"Well done, Mishka,--for it was thou!" exclaimed Loris. "How was it
done?"
"_Pouf_, it was but a toy," grunted Mishka. "I brought it in my
pocket,--on chance; such things are useful at times. If it had been
a real bomb, we should all have entered Heaven--or hell--together."
"Get to the steps; they are coming back," cried Loris.
He was right. A section of the crowd turned, and made an ugly rush, only
to halt in confusion as they found themselves confronted by levelled
revolvers, held by four men in uniform.
"Be off," Loris shouted. There was no anger in his voice; he spoke as
sternly and dictatorially as one speaks to a fractious child. "You have
done enough mischief for one night,--and the punishment is still to
come. Back, I say! Go home, and see that you do no more evil."
He strode towards them, and they gave back before him.
"Jesu! It is the archangel Michel! Ah, but we have sinned, indeed," a
woman wailed hysterically. The cry was caught up, echoed in awestruck
murmurs; and the whole lot of them quickened their flight, as we marched
on their heels.
"A compliment to you, my Mishka,--you and your toy bomb; somewhat more
like Jove and his thunderbolts though, eh?" said Loris, and I saw his
eyes gleam for a moment with a flash of the quaint humor that cropped up
in him at the most unexpected moments. "It was a good thought, for it
achieved much, at very little cost. But these poor fools! When will they
learn wisdom?"
We stood still, waiting for a brief space, to see if the mob would
return. But the noise receded,--the worst was over; though the baleful
glare of the burning houses waxed ever brighter, revealing all the
horrors of that stricken town.
With a sigh Loris thrust his revolver back into his belt,--none of us
had fired a shot,--and strode back to the door of the synagogue.
From within we could hear, now that the din had ceased, the wailing of
frightened children, the weeping of women.
Loris drew his revolver again and beat on the door with the butt.
"Open within there!" he cried. "All is safe, and we are friends."
"Who are you? Give the name, or the word," came the answer, in a woman's
voice; a voice that I knew well.
"Open, Anna; _a la vie et a la mort_!" he called.
A queer dizziness seized me as I listened. She was within, then; in
another minute I should meet her. But how could I hope that she would
have a word, a glance, to spare for me, when _he_ was there. I could
not even feel jealous of him; he was so far above me in every way. For
me there must still be only "the page's part," while he was the king,
and she the queen.
There were lumbering noises within, as of heavy goods being moved; but
at last the door swung back, and there on the threshold, with her hands
outstretched, stood Anne Pendennis.