The Pobratim Part 55

The castle, which seemed to rise out of the steep inaccessible crags on which it was perched, was built of huge blocks of stone. It had thick machicolated towers at every corner, gates with drawbridges and barbicans. The apartments within this stronghold, the remains of which are still to be seen, were as sumptuous and as comfortable as any king's daughter might wish. Her protectors had provided her with all the necessities of daily life, for every day, at twelve, a dainty dinner, cooked by invisible hands, was laid out in the lofty hall, whilst in the morning a cup of exquisite chocolate was ready for her on the table in her bedroom; besides, she found all that could induce her to pa.s.s her time pleasantly, for she had statues, pictures, birds and flowers. She could walk in the small garden in the midst of the square court, or under the marble colonnade that surrounded it; she could st.i.tch, sew, embroider, play the lute, or paint. Still, she was quite alone, and time lay heavy on her hands. She could see, from the windows of the second floor, people at a distance stop and stare at the wonderful castle that had risen out of a rock, like a mushroom, in the s.p.a.ce of a night; but n.o.body ever saw her. Alone with the cur from morn to night, from year's end to year's end; he followed her, step by step, whithersoever she went, and whatever she did he would wag his tail approvingly. If she sat down, he would squat on his haunches, on a stool opposite, and gloat on her with his little eyes so persistently that she felt her head grow quite dizzy, and she almost fancied that she had a human being sitting there in front of her, watching lovingly her slightest movement; and then the strangest fancies flitted through her brain.

Several times she had tried, as a pastime, to teach the dog some tricks; but she soon gave it up, for he always inspired her with a kind of awe. He was such a knowing kind of a cur, that he invariably seemed to read all her thoughts within her brain, and, winking at her, did the very thing she wanted him to do, before she had even tried to teach him the trick. Then, as he saw her open her eyes wonderingly, he would look at her, grinning, as if he were making fun of her; or else he sniffed at her in a patronising kind of way, as if he would say:

"Pooh! what a very silly kind of girl you are. Couldn't you, a human being, think of something better than that?"

It happened one day that, as they sat opposite each other, looking into each other's eyes--he as quiet as a stone dog on a gate, she with her tapering fingers interlocked, twirling her thumbs as a means of pa.s.sing her time--the Princess was thinking of her many rejected suitors, whose hearts she had broken; even of the last one, the short, squat man, with st.u.r.dy limbs, large hands and feet, a s.h.a.ggy head and huge ears. And she sighed, for though he was much more of a Satyr than like her Hyperean father, still he was a man.

Thereupon, she looked at the cur, with its st.u.r.dy limbs, its s.h.a.ggy head and huge ears; and she sighed again. The dog winked at her.

"Cur," she said to herself, "you are ugly enough; still, if you were a man I think I could fall in love with you."

The cur stood on his hind legs, his head a little on one side; there was a knowing, impudent look in his eyes. Then he uttered a kind of doggish laugh, something between a whine and a bark; then, after showing his teeth in a grinning kind of way, he licked his chops at her sneeringly.

The words of her last suitor were just then ringing in her ears. She looked at the cur in amazement, for she almost fancied he had uttered those selfsame words.

The cur was evidently mocking her, as he rolled his s.h.a.ggy head about, and gloated at her just as her last suitor had done.

Thereupon, she blushed deeply, and covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears.

The poor dog thereupon came to lick the tears that oozed through her fingers, so that she felt somewhat comforted by the affection which this poor mongrel showed her.

This, thought she, is the end of every haughty beauty who is hard to please and who thinks no one is good enough for her. She rejects all the best matches in early youth, she turns up her nose at every eligible _parti_, until--when age creeps on and beauty fades--she is happy to accept the first boor that pops the question. As for herself, she had not even a boor whom she could love, not even the churlish man with the huge ears.

That evening, undressing before going to bed, the Princess stood, sad and disconsolate, in front of her mirror. She was still of a radiant beauty, quite as handsome as she had ever been; but alas! she knew that her beauty would soon begin to fade in that lonely tower.

What had she done to the G.o.ds to deserve the punishment she was undergoing? Why had the genii shut her up in that tower to pine there unheeded and unknown? Why had they not left her to wander about the world, or even die upon those blasted heaths of her country? Death was better than having to waste away in a living death, doomed to eternal imprisonment.

It was a splendid night in early May. The moon, on one side, silvered the placid waters of the Adriatic, whilst it gleamed on the still snow-capped tops of the Vellebic, on the other. The breeze that came in through the open cas.e.m.e.nt wafted in the smell of the sea, and of the sage, the hyssop and lavender that grew all around. A nightingale was trilling in an amorous strain, blackbirds whistled in plaintive notes, just as in the daytime the wild doves had cooed their eternal love-song to their mate.

The poor girl leaned her plump and snowy arms on the white marble window-sill and sighed. How lovely the world is, she thought, and then she remained as if entranced by an ecstatic vision. Within the amber moon that rolled on high and flooded all below with mellow light, the Princess saw a lover with his la.s.s. Their mouths were closely pressed in one long kiss, as thirsty lips that cleave unto the brim of some ambrosial aphrodisiac cup. Above, the stars were s.h.i.+ning forth with love, whilst, down below, the whole earth seemed to pant; the night-bird's lay, the lisping waves' low voice, and the insect's chirp all spoke of unknown bliss. The very air, all laden with the strong scent of roses, lilies and sweet asphodel, was like the breath of an enamoured youth who whispered in her ear sweet words of love. A scathing flame was kindled in her breast, and in her veins her blood was all aglow; her shattered body seemed to melt like wax, such was the unknown yearning which she felt upon that lovely night in early May. With reeling, aching head and tottering steps, the forlorn maiden slowly crept to bed, and while the hot tears trickled down her cheeks, oblivion steeped her senses in soft sleep.

That night the wandering moon, that came peeping through the lofty windows, saw a strange sight. Upon her round disc a broad, sallow face could now be plainly seen, grinning good-humouredly at what she beheld.

That night the Princess had a dream, or rather a vision. No sooner did she shut her eyes and her senses began to wander and lose themselves, than she saw the s.h.a.ggy cur come into the room, with his usual waddling gait, wagging his tail according to his wont. He came up to her bed, stood upon his hind legs, put his big paws upon the white sheets, and began to look at her just in the very same way he had done that morning when she awoke to find herself shut up within the battlemented walls of that lonely tower by the sea. She was almost amused to see him stare at her so gravely, for he looked like a wise doctor standing by some patient's bed. Until now there was nothing very strange in this vision, but now comes the most wonderful and interesting part, which shows how truth and fancy, the occurrences of the day before and long-forgotten facts, are often blended together to make up the plot of our dreams.

As the Princess was looking upon the dog's paws, she saw them change, not all at once, but quietly undergo a slow process of transformation. They, little by little, grew longer and shaped themselves into fingers and broad hands. She looked up--in her sleep, of course--and beheld the fore part of the legs gradually lengthen themselves into two st.u.r.dy arms. The dog's s.h.a.ggy head became somewhat blurred, and in its stead a man's tawny ma.s.s of hair appeared. In fact, after a few minutes, the last rejected suitor, who, indeed, had always borne a strong likeness to the ugly cur that had followed her in her exile, now appeared before her.

He was not a handsome man; no, far from handsome; still, on the whole, it was better to have as her companion a human being than a dog. Still, strange to say, she now liked this man on account of his strong resemblance to the faithful dumb cur, the only friend she had now had for years.

"You said that if I were a man you could love me," quoth he, in something like a soft and gentle growl, sniffing at her as he spoke, evidently unable to forbear from his long-acquired canine customs.

"Well, now, do you love me?"

The young girl--in her dream--stretched out her hand and patted the man's dishevelled hair as she had been wont to caress the cur's s.h.a.ggy head; such is the force of habit.

"I told you that the time would come when you would lick your chops to have me back; so you see my words, after all, have come true."

It was a churlish remark, but the young girl had got so accustomed to the cur's strange ways, that she did not resent it; she even allowed the man to kiss her hands, just as the mongrel had been wont to lick them, which shows how careful we ought to be in avoiding bad habits.

It was then that the rolling, rollicking moon came peeping through the window with a broad smile on her chubby round face, just as if she was approving of the sight she saw.

On the morrow, when the Princess awoke, she looked for the cur everywhere, but, strange to say, he was nowhere to be found. She ransacked the whole house, but he had disappeared; she peered through the barbicans, glanced down from the battlements; she mounted to the top of the highest tower, strained her eyes, and gazed on the surrounding country, but the dog was nowhere to be seen.

A sense of loneliness and languor came over her. It was so dreary to be shut up in those large and lofty halls, that, at times, the very sound of her steps made her s.h.i.+ver. Her very food became distasteful to her.

From that day--being quite alone--she longed to have, at least, a little child which she might love, and which might help her to beguile the long hours of solitude. Every day her maternal instincts grew stronger within her, and every evening, as she stood leaning on the marble window-sill, she prayed the kind genii, who had taken pity on her when she had been wandering on the moor, and almost dying of weariness, of hunger and of thirst, to be kind to her, and bring her a tiny little baby to take the place of her lost cur, for life without a child was quite without an aim.

Months pa.s.sed; the blossoms of the trees had fallen, the fruit had ripened, the harvest had been gathered, the days had grown shorter, the sea was now always lashed into fury, all the summer-birds had flown far away, the others were all hushed; only the raucous cries of the gulls were heard as they flew past the tower where she dwelt. The days had grown shorter and shorter, the wind was cold, the weather was bleak, when at last her wish was granted.

It was on a dreary, stormy night in early February; the Princess was lying on her bed, unable to sleep, when all at once the window was dashed open, and a huge stork flew in. It was the very stork, they say, that, years afterwards, was so fatal to the town of Aquileja, not very far from there. At that moment the poor Princess was so terrified that she quite lost her senses; but when she came back to herself, she found a tiny baby--not an hour old--lying in bed by her side.

The wind was blowing in a most terrific way. The Quarnero, which is always stormy, was nothing but one ma.s.s of white foam. The huge waves dashed together, like fleecy rams b.u.t.ting against each other. The billows ever rose higher, whilst the waters of the lowering clouds overhead came pouring down upon the flood below. All the elements seemed unchained against that lonely tower. The clouds came pouring down in waterspouts upon it; the breakers dashed against it; the two ravines, the big and the little Plas Kenizza--formed by the genii as they had slid down the mountains--were now huge torrents, rolling down with a roaring noise against the white walls of the tower, making it look more like an enormous lighthouse on a rock than a princely castle. The thunder never stopped rumbling; the forked lightning darted incessantly down upon the highest pinnacles and the whole stronghold, from its battlements down to its very base. Such a terrific storm had never been known for ages; in fact, not since the days when the mighty Julius had been murdered.

By the lurid light of the incessant flashes, the Princess first saw her infant boy; and she heard its first wail amongst the deafening din of the falling thunder-bolts. With motherly fondness, she pressed the baby to her breast; whilst her heart was beating as if it were about to break. What a thrill of unutterable bliss she felt that moment; but, alas! all her joy pa.s.sed into sorrow when she perceived that her beautiful baby--beautiful, at least, to a mother's eyes--had two dear little dog's ears.

Dogs' ears are by no means ugly--although they are occasionally cropped. Why was it, then, that the Princess saw them with horror and dismay?

Ears, the young mother thought, are the very worst features man possesses. They stand out prominently and look uncouth, or they sprawl out along the sides of the head; they are either as colourless as if they had just been boiled, or as red as boiled lobsters.

Anyhow, she was somewhat fastidious about the shape and tint of those appendages, so that now the sight of those huge hairy lobes was perfectly loathsome to her, and as she looked upon them she burst into tears. The poor forlorn baby, feeling itself snubbed, was wailing by her side. After a little while she took up her infant; the disgust she felt was stronger than ever; moreover, she was thoroughly disappointed. She had begged for a baby, not for a little puppy. In her vexation--she was a very self-willed girl, as princesses often are--she took up the babe, got out of the bed, and in two strides she was by the window. She would cast the little monster into the dark night from where it had come. She herself did not want it.

As she reached the open window the two genii, her protectors, stood before her.

"Stop, unnatural mother!" cried the taller of the two. "What are you about to do?"

The Princess shrank back, frightened and trembling. There are a few things at which we do not exactly like to be caught: infanticide is one of them.

"Know," said the Afrite, in a voice like a peal of thunder, "that the child, though with dog's ears, is not only of royal lineage, but he is, moreover, the son of a great genius. About four hundred years ago another Virgin gave birth to a Child, who, later on, was put to death upon a cross because the people did not want him as their king. Well, now, the followers of that virgin's child are our bitterest enemies; our only hope is in your son; he will grow up to become a mighty warrior and avenge us. He will waste the towns on which the gold cross glistens, he will make their kings his captives, and all their priests his slaves. The blood of the Christians will run in torrents, even as the rain comes down the ravines to-night; his shafts will be like the thunderbolts that have fallen on your tower to-night. His name--which will be heard all over the world like the rumbling in the clouds--will be The Scourge of G.o.d, and he will chastise men for their evil deeds. Wherever he pa.s.ses the gra.s.s will wither under his feet, and the waste will be his wake. Only, that all these things might come to pa.s.s, thou must well bear in mind that his head be never shorn nor his beard shaven; let the tawny locks of his hair fall about his shoulders like a lion's mane, for all his strength will lie therein. As soon as his arm is able to wield a weapon, the trail of blood flowing from a heifer's wound will show him where the sword of the great G.o.d of war lies rusting in the rushes; with that brand in his hand all men will bow before him, or fall like gra.s.s beneath the mower's scythe. Love alone will overcome him, and a young girl's l.u.s.t will lull him into eternal sleep. He will be versed in magic lore, and be able to read the starry skies as a written scroll.

From his very infancy he will feel a wholesome hatred for the Nazarenes, his foes as well as ours."

Having uttered these words, the Afrite rose up like smoke and faded away in the dark clouds.

In the meanwhile the child grew up of a superhuman strength, short of stature but square, and with very broad shoulders; and when he was but seven years of age the gates of the castle, hitherto always shut, opened themselves for him. From that time he pa.s.sed his days in the dells and hollows of the mountains, chasing the wild beasts that abounded in those gorges and in the neighbouring forests, almost inaccessible to man. His mother saw him but little, for he only came back to the castle when heavily laden with his prey.

He was but a youth when he organised a band of freebooters; and with their help he sacked and plundered all the neighbouring towns and villages, and the plains all around were strewn with the bones of the dead. Being not only invincible, but just and generous to his men, he soon found himself at the head of an army the like of which the world had never seen. He destroyed the immense town of Aquileja, the largest city of the Adriatic coast, and even burnt down the forest which stretched from Ravenna to Trieste. Whithersoever he went the houses fell, the temples and the theatres crumbled down, and he left desolation behind him; so that, before he had even reached the age of manhood, the words of the genius were fulfilled.

At that time the old King of Hungary happened to die, leaving no heirs to ascend his throne. Anarchy desolated the land. The n.o.bles, who were at variance as to whom they were to elect, having heard, in some mysterious way, that their beautiful Princess was still alive, and that the great conqueror who was at that time plundering Rome was her son, sent an emba.s.sy to the Princess, asking her to return to her country, and begging her, as a boon, to accept the crown for her child.

The Princess, whose name was Mor-Lak (the Daughter of Misfortune), lived to a good old age. When she died she left her name to the sea and to the channel, the waters of which bathe the town in which she dwelt; therefore, the people who live thereabouts are, to this day, called Morlacchi. If they have no more canine ears, their hair is still as tawny as that of the dog-king, though all the other Dalmatians are dark. Moreover, if you go to Starigrad you can see, as I told you, the ruins of the Torre Vezza, the fairy tower where the virgin's son was born; likewise the huge chasms of the Ruino and the Sveti Berdo, the holy mountain where the Afrites slid down, in remembrance of which the inhabitants still call them the Paklenizza Malo and the Paklenizza Veliko, or, the Gorges of the Big and the Little Devil.

A few days afterwards, the captain bade the young men good-bye, and started for Fiume, whilst they, having their cargo ready, set sail for Odessa. The weather was fine, the wind was fair; therefore, the first voyage during which they were in sole command of the s.h.i.+p was a most prosperous, though a rather rough one. For during four days they had s.h.i.+pped several seas, so that they had the water up to their waists, and, with all that, no water to drink; but these are the incidents appertaining to a seafaring life, which sailors forget as soon as they set foot on sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER XIV

THE "KARVARINA"