The Pobratim Part 23

"The girl beckoned to a slave to approach, and then she took a parcel from his hands.

"'This,' said she, opening it, 'is what remains of the ladder; and you will find Hussein's body in the chasm, smiling in the happy sleep of death. The houris, who have been praying over him the whole day, have covered him with garlands of flowers. Go and dig his grave in the burying-ground, and dig another one by his side.'

"'But,' said Kuna Ha.s.san, 'how did the accident happen?'

"'Nedure hated Hussein, but she could not harm him, so she apprised Velagic of what was to happen; nay, she did more, she transformed him into the likeness of a rat, and changing herself into an owl, she deposited the _Dizdar_ on the sill of my room, there he came and gnawed at the ropes of the ladder.'

"'This is false,' said the _Dizdar_. 'Whoever can believe such a story? Why, the girl is mad!'

"'Guards,' said the _Aga_, with his hand on the haft of his dagger, 'seize Velagic, and mind that you do not let him escape!'

"'Away!' replied the _Dizdar_. 'A man of my rank can only be judged by the Sultan.'

"'Stop!' cried Ayesha; then, lifting her beautiful arm, naked up to the shoulder, and whiter than the strings of pearls entwined around it, and pointing towards the highway:

"'Do you see there a cloud of dust on the road? Do you see those men coming here? Do you know who they are? You cannot distinguish them, but I can.'

"'Who are they, Ayesha?' cried all the bystanders.

"'The foremost man amongst them, that tall and handsome youth, that looks like Prince George of Cappadocia, is no less a hero. It is Stoyan Jancovic, the man whose back you never saw; the others are but a few of his followers.'

"Then, turning to Velagic: 'Now, craven, utter your last prayer, if you can and if you dare, then prepare to fight; your hour has come.'

"Hearing these words, the _Dizdar_ grew ashy pale; then he began to quake with fear. Such an overpowering dread filled his soul that he seemed to have been smitten with a strong fit of the ague. Still, trying to hide his anxiety:

"'Yes, we shall fight; Allah be thanked, brothers, that this infidel dog is within our reach. Yes, friends, we shall see the power of the Crescent over the Cross.'

"'No; you shall fight alone,' said Ayesha, authoritatively; 'and it is useless to contaminate the name of the All-powerful. As you are already doomed to perdition, call to your aid Sheytan and Nedure.'

"Ayesha had hardly uttered these words when Stoyan, having made a sign to his companions to keep back, rode boldly up to where the chiefs were standing, and, when a few steps from Ayesha, he curbed his foaming steed, that, unable to brook control, began at once to paw the ground.

"'Maiden,' said he, bowing, 'I am here at thy behest. I have this night had a strange dream. A _Vila_ appeared to me in my sleep, first in the likeness of a nightingale and then in the shape of a dainty, glittering little snake. She told me that for your sake I had to accomplish, this very day, two mighty deeds of justice. The one was to rid this neighbourhood of the evil doings of Nedure, the powerful witch. This is already done.'

"Thereupon, loosening a silken scarf attached to his saddle, he threw the sorceress's head at the _Dizdar_'s feet.

"'Now,' said he, turning to Velagic, 'you who have been her accomplice--you who brag to have killed three hundred Christians, who, while skulking away like a cur, dare to say that you have been looking everywhere for me, to slay me--here I am.'

"Appalled at the sight of the witch's hideous head, terrified by the hero's words, shaking like an aspen leaf, full of dread and consternation, Velagic looked up at his companions for help; but on their faces he saw nothing but angry scowls, looks of scorn and hatred.

"'Fight,' cried the _Aga_, 'or a worse death awaits thee, the ignominious death of a murderer and a sorcerer! Fight, coward, fight!

for if thou fallest not by that brave man's hand, thou shalt this very day be impaled as a wizard.'

"The _Dizdar_, seeing that there was no escape, plucked up his courage in his own defence, called the powers of darkness to his help, and unexpectedly rushed upon Stoyan, hoping to catch him off his guard, and to despatch him with a treacherous blow of his scimitar.

"'Fair play! fair play!' shouted the chiefs.

"'The laws of chivalry, gentleman, are not expected to be known by a vile recreant like Ibrahim Velagic,' quoth Stoyan, whose keen eye forthwith saw the stroke, and whose deft hand not only parried it, but dealt his adversary such a mighty blow that it cut off the _Dizdar_'s head and sent it rolling on the ground by the side of Nedure's.

"'And now, beautiful maiden, the task you have enjoined me is done; would to G.o.d thou hadst called upon me before.'

"'I thank thee, gentle knight,' said Ayesha, who all the time had been standing on the parapet of the old stone bridge. 'Thou hast avenged my lover's death; may Heaven reward thee for thy deed.'

"'_Allah, bismillah!_' cried out the chiefs.

"Thereupon Stoyan, bowing courteously, wheeled round his horse and, galloping away, was soon out of sight.

"'And now,' said Ayesha, 'I had sworn to Hussein, that flower of youth and beauty, to be his for ever. Now I shall keep my vow. May the Most Merciful unite me to my lover. G.o.d of my fathers, G.o.d of Mohamed, receive me amongst the blessed.'

"Thereupon, lifting a small dagger which she held in her hand, she plunged it into her heart, and before her father had time to rush up to her, she had fallen into the torrent underneath, dyeing its waters of a crimson hue, just as the last rays of the sinking sun seemed to tinge in blood the lofty tops of the Veli-Berdo.

"From that day the Bridge of the Two Torrents has ever been called the Bullin-Most, or the Bridge of the Turkish Maiden, and every evening, when the day is fine, the sun sheds a blood-red light on the highest peaks of the Dinara, and the wind that, at gloaming, blows down the dell and through the arches of the bridge, seems to waft back an echo of the last moan of the _Aga_'s beautiful daughter."

CHAPTER VII

s.e.xAGESIMA

The days that followed the departure of the _pobratim_ were sad ones indeed. The Zwillievics had gone back to Montenegro; then Milena, not having any excuse to remain longer a guest of the Bellacics, was obliged to go back with a sinking heart to her lonely, out-of-the-way cottage; a dreary house which had never been a home to her.

When the Christmas snow had melted away, a sudden strong gale of wind dried up the sods, so that the gra.s.s everywhere was withered and scorched; the very rocks themselves looked lean, pinched-up, bare and sharp. All nature had put on a wizened, wolfish, wintry appearance.

The weather was not only cold, it was bleak and gloomy.

After a fortnight of a dull, overcast sky, it began to drizzle; everything smelt of mildew; the mouldy turf oozed with moisture, the rotting trees dripped with dampness. The world was decaying. If at times a ray of sunlight pierced the grey clouds, its pale yellow, languid light brought with it neither warmth nor comfort. Evidently the sun was pining away, dying; our bereaved planet was moaning for the loss of his life-giving light.

During all this time the dull sirocco never ceased to blow, either in a low, unending wail, or in louder and more fitful blasts. Usually, as soon as one gust had pa.s.sed away, a stronger one came rolling down the mountain side, increasing in sound as it drew nearer; then pa.s.sing, it died away in the distance.

These booming blasts made every mother think of her sailor boy, tossed far away on the raging mountain waves; wives lighted candles to St. Nicholas, for the safety of their husbands; whilst the girls thought of their lovers by day, and at night they dreamt continually of flowers, babies, stagnant waters, white grapes, lice and other such omens of ill-luck.

For poor, forlorn Milena, those days were like the murky morning hours that follow a night of revelry. She was dull, down-hearted, dispirited; nor had she, indeed, anything to cheer her up. In her utter solitude, she spun from the moment she got up to the moment she went to bed; interrupting herself only to eat a crust of bread and some olives, or else to mope listlessly. At times, however, her loneliness, and the utter stillness of her house, oppressed her in such a way that it almost drove her to distraction.

She mused continually over all the events of her life during the last months, after her merry girlhood had come to an end by that hateful and hasty marriage of hers; she recalled to mind that time of misery with her old miserly mother-in-law, who even counted the grains of parched Indian-corn she ate. Still, soon after this old dame's death, came that fated St. John's Eve. It was the first ray of sunlight in the gloom of her married life. It was also the first time she had seen Uros.

She had not fallen in love with him that evening; she had only liked him because he was good-looking and his ways were so winning.

Everybody was fond of him, he was so winsome.

Little by little, after that, his presence began to haunt her, his face was always before her eyes. When she woke in the morning, his name was on her lips. Still, that was not love; she even fancied she only liked to teaze him because she was a married woman, a matron, whilst he was but a boy; moreover, he was so shy.

When Radonic came home, she woke to the stern reality of life; she at last found out that she hated her husband and loved Uros, who, though a boy, was, withal, older than herself. That was the time when Radonic's rage being roused by Vranic, he had almost killed Milenko.

Then, lastly, shuddering and appalled, she remembered that night when Uros came to sing his farewell song.

She stopped spinning now; the corners of her pretty, childish mouth were drawn down; she hid her face between her hands, whilst the tears trickled slowly through her fingers.

Why had she been so foolishly weak? Now the thought of that night drove her mad. Could she but blot away the past months and begin life anew!

Alas! what was done could never be undone. She rocked herself on her stool in a brown study. What was she to do? What was to become of her?