The Land of the Black Mountain Part 20

We felt abashed. We confess thoughts of a nocturnal a.s.sa.s.sination had not pleased us, and yet these wild mountaineers had already provided for such a contingency. When we went outside the house before turning in, Dr. S. pointed out the figure of a motionless sentinel leaning on his rifle some little distance away.

"It is odd that the women are so respected," I remarked to the doctor, "when no other law seems recognised. Do they never take part in a vendetta?"

"Never as a woman," said the doctor. "If it should happen that a woman is the last surviving member of a family, the rest having been killed in a vendetta, she may continue the feud, but as a man. She then a.s.sumes the clothes of the opposite s.e.x, procures arms and cuts herself off from the world, living as a hermit. Do you remember that Albanian woman at Easter time in Podgorica who kissed me so fervently?"

We nodded, for we had been much amused at the scene. A wild-looking, unkempt Albanian woman had kissed the doctor most effusively.

"Though she had a.s.sumed the woman's garb for the Easter festival, she is to all intents and purposes a man, and hence the man's kiss of peace. She then asked me for a revolver which I had promised her some time ago."

We turned in soon after, but not before we heard another story.

Two cairns on the road to Plavnica, and but half an hour from Podgorica, had often been pointed out to us. They were erected to the memory of an attack made on four gendarmes in connection with a long-standing vendetta. A party of Albanians had hidden themselves in two hollows beside the main road at night and as the gendarmes pa.s.sed they fired into them, killing one and badly wounding two others. This happened shortly before our arrival.

Another scene had been enacted a few days ago which they now related to us, to prevent us perhaps thinking too much of Keco's story, and dreaming of it.

The men of the Zeta had sworn revenge for the death of their gendarme, a famous man and great favourite, but at the time Prince Nicolas had sternly forbidden reprisals. But such things are not forgotten, and a man had crossed the Zem into Albania. Coming on a party of men working in a field, he had fired, but his aim was unsteady, and he only wounded his intended victim slightly. Then he fled, hotly pursued, and received a bad wound as he crossed an open s.p.a.ce. Still he managed to elude his pursuers for the time being, and reached the River Zem. Here his strength failed him and he clung, half fainting from loss of blood, to the bushes fringing the bank, unable to go any further. In this position a man of the clan Hotti found him, as he was coming along the river. Having heard the shots and seeing a bleeding Montenegrin, he put two and two together and promptly shot him. The other Albanians, directed by the report, now came up, and literally hacked the corpse to pieces. So the Zeta peasants are now two deaths to the bad. In conclusion, we were told that the authorities have reason to believe that the murdered man had been accompanied by others on his raid into a friendly country and were seeking for these men most diligently to punish them severely.

For their violating the border laws?

No, for deserting their comrade, and leaving him to meet his death alone, and the sentence for this craven deed is ten years.

Next morning we rode into Podgorica, and comparative civilisation, after a period of roughing it of the hardest description. We had often gone from five a.m. till seven or eight p.m. on a couple of eggs and an occasional gla.s.s of milk, and had hard going all the time. It proved to us pretty conclusively how we of civilised lands disgustingly and habitually overeat ourselves.

We finished considerably harder and more fit than at the start, and we had lived the whole time as the Montenegrins of the mountains live.

One remarkable gift of which these mountaineers are possessed, and which deserves special remark, is that of long-distance talking. Men can speak with each other in the higher alt.i.tudes at distances of five miles and more, where our ears could hardly distinguish a faint sound of the human voice. Children are accustomed to it at an early age, and the quaint sight of a mother conversing with her child guarding some sheep on a neighbouring hillside is often to be witnessed. This gift must be acquired young, it seems, for Dr. S., who has lived twelve years amongst the Montenegrins, could neither make himself heard, nor understand, though he said that he had given himself much pains to learn the art.

As we rode into Podgorica that morning, we were struck by meeting several groups of the Turkish inhabitants hanging about outside the town. Arriving in the town, only Montenegrins were to be seen in the streets, walking somewhat ostentatiously up and down, their natural swagger greatly exaggerated. The news of the elopement of another Turkish maiden soon reached us, and that day at dinner, an officer, detailed to prove the matter, told us the story.

A young Montenegrin had won the heart of the maiden, and accompanied by a friend, he had gone to the wall of her house and given a preconcerted signal. The girl had come, but a dispute now arose between the men as to who should ultimately marry her, and she, in great disgust, had told them to go away and settle the matter. It seems that the girl had no particular wishes as to whom she should marry. At last the friends arranged matters satisfactorily and the girl was abducted, if one can call an elopement an abduction. However, in the eyes of the Turks it was a forcible abduction, and the fact that the girl was related to the most influential Turk in the town did not improve matters. The Beg had demanded the rest.i.tution of the girl at once and punishment of the offenders. The Prince had sent officials to settle the dispute. The girl, however, very naturally refused to be given back, as she would probably have been killed, and insisted on her baptism and marriage taking place forthwith.

As the officer said to us--

"This is a free country, and we shall not give back the maiden against her will."

This had incensed the Turks beyond measure. The town was being patrolled nightly, and the Beg attempted flight to mark his anger. But this the Prince would not allow, and the Beg was stopped by gendarmes as he was entering a carriage one night. Only if he first gave up his orders, decorations, and his sword of honour, and, furthermore, took his wives and belongings with him, could he leave the country.

Such was the state of affairs on our return. At night we went armed, and really had hopes of seeing a street fight. One evening a shot was fired in the town, and in the twinkling of an eye men turned out rifle in hand. Nothing came of it, and the crowd of several hundred armed Montenegrins slowly dispersed. Had further shots been fired, we were told, the peasants from far and near would have taken up the alarm, and in an hour thousands would have flocked into the town. No wonder the Turks were chary of taking revenge into their own hands.[8]

[Footnote 8: Again, since writing the above, this statement has been fully proved. In February, 1902, a party of Turkish soldiers, half starved in their frontier block-houses, attempted a raid into Montenegro. They were accompanied by a brother of the famous Achmet Uiko; whose story has been related elsewhere. In spite of the caution which the raiders displayed, the news reached Podgorica as soon as they had crossed the border and seemingly eluded the vigilance of the Montenegrin frontier guards. A party of Montenegrins lay in wait for them in Dr. S.'s summer garden (a spot where we had often spent many pleasant hours) and the Turks were challenged. As an answer the marauders fired at their unseen challengers, doing no harm, but an answering volley killed two of them. The rest were captured, one only making good his escape, and were brought into the town. But the volleys had alarmed the whole district, hundreds of men pouring into Podgorica from all the neighbouring villages and hills, till many thousands had a.s.sembled.

--Cetinje, March, 1902.]

But the mischief done was great. Many families emigrated, much to Prince Nicolas' anger, for he encourages by every means in his power the extension of the Turkish population. They bring trade and cultivate the lands far more diligently than the Montenegrin warriors.

So it was that we witnessed during these few days the festival of the Sultan's birthday, which seemed strangely incongruous considering the mixed feelings of the inhabitants.

In the morning, all the town officials called on the Turkish Consul.

The militia were formed up and the whole, led by the Montenegrin War Banner, proceeded in solemn procession to the princ.i.p.al mosque. On their return, a royal salute was fired from a bastion of the old wall, and in the evening the town was illuminated.

It was an extraordinary sight, and one not easily to be forgotten. All the houses stuck candles in every window, by order of the Prince; the market-place and the War Memorial were covered with lamps, but the most striking feature of all was the illumination on a small hill immediately behind the old town. This hill overlooks the town, and was covered by rows of lamps. In the streets Turks, Albanians, and Montenegrins jostled each other; at peace, at any rate, for one evening.

A day or two later, a very different spectacle could have been witnessed. The main street leading to the church on the outskirts of the town was lined by waiting Montenegrins, and not a Turk was to be seen. Soon a carriage drove rapidly from the church, with a blus.h.i.+ng Montenegrin girl and a gold-embroidered Montenegrin at her side. It was the late Turkish maiden, now a radiant Montenegrin bride and Christian. Several Turks had been caught endeavouring to approach the church with revolvers concealed, but were promptly turned back.

And so ended an eventful week.

One day, quite by accident, we discovered the arrest-house, or place where prisoners are detained pending their trial and sentence. We were pa.s.sing a door which led down by a few steps into a courtyard, when an acquaintance of ours accosted us.

We went inside and spoke to him for some minutes. He was a merry individual and a clerk in a Government office.

He requested us to bring our camera and photograph him on the next day. Then he moved and a chain clanked. Neither of us had realised that this was a prison till that moment, though we had pa.s.sed that door many times.

Next day we came again, and took a picture of our genial friend, whom we found seated and playing the gusla to a crowd of other prisoners, some exceedingly heavily chained.

One or two guards came up and we spent an hour in a pleasant chat.

Our friend was only "in" for a few days for making a rude remark about the Chief of Police. The chained men were mostly murderers, if we may use such a harsh term for those who are compelled to kill their enemies by the relentless laws of the vendetta, and who would be punished by the laws of man should they prove themselves guilty of cowardice.

The vendetta in Montenegro is a legal anomaly. Men are punished in either case.

CHAPTER XVIII

S. Vasili and Ostrog--Our drive thither--Joyful pilgrims--Varied costumes--We meet the Vladika of Montenegro--The ordeal of hot coffee--A real pilgrimage--The shrine of S. Vasili--The ancient hermit--A miracle--Nikic--The gaudy cathedral and the Prince's palace--We are disappointed in Nikic.

Though we visited the famous Monastery of Ostrog at the very beginning of our visit to Montenegro, and Nikic at the conclusion, both places lie so near together that we put them now in this order for the sake of simplicity.

It was our good fortune to be enabled to witness the annual pilgrimage to the shrine of S. Vasili, which takes place during the Greek Whitsuntide.

Ostrog is the Lourdes of the Balkans, as many equally miraculous cures take place as at the Roman Catholic rival in the Pyrenees. The Serb-speaking races from far and near flock there in enormous numbers, as well as many Mahometans and Catholics.

S. Vasili (or Basil) was a native of the Hercegovina and a holy man of great repute. About a century ago he had a vision telling him to travel to Montenegro, and there to found a monastery. Accordingly he set out, taking with him a great quant.i.ty of building material, and chose a spot not far from Podgorica, on the right bank of the Zeta.

But in the night the material disappeared, and S. Vasili hunted high and low. After a weary search it was found at Ostrog, and there he built his place of retreat, living many years, working many miracles, and dying as a saint. He is buried there, and it is said that any believer has but to visit the shrine, and whatever his wish may be, it will be fulfilled. Thus cripples have walked back the way which they were carried, sick have been made whole, and the mentally afflicted have gone away rejoicing. Certain it is that many wonderful cures are yearly effected there.

Furthermore, the name of Ostrog appears often in the glorious annals of Montenegrin history. The oft-told tale of Prince Nicolas' father, Mirko, "The Sword of Montenegro," who was besieged in that inaccessible cleft in a precipice with a handful of men, is one of the most famous feats of Montenegrin arms. The charred cliffs still bear silent witness to the efforts which the Turks made to burn out the little garrison by throwing bundles of flaming straw from above.

Ostrog is about six hours' drive from Podgorica. The road pa.s.ses along the River Zeta, leaving the village of Spu on the right, and past the flouris.h.i.+ng little town of Danilovgrad, soon to be the connecting town between Cetinje and Nikic on completion of the projected road.

There is nothing of interest in Danilovgrad, though the market is of some importance. A little way beyond the town a nearly complete building can be noticed. It is the lunatic asylum.

From this point onwards the road ascends slowly but steadily until a deep valley lies to the right, and the Zeta a.s.sumes quite diminutive proportions. The mountains opposite rise to an ever-increasing height, until a few tiny buildings can be made out by the help of field-gla.s.ses. It is Ostrog. That morning we could make out the tents and booths of the pilgrims, and a dark ma.s.s of surging humanity. But it is still a very long distance away. The road climbs up to the head of the valley to the village of Bogetic, full that morning of the carriages of the wealthy pilgrims. During the Whitsun festival carriages are scarcely to be procured in the whole of Montenegro, or in Cattaro either.

We broke our fast here, and then drove for another mile or so where a path leaves the road, and the pilgrim has either to proceed on horseback or on foot. We had to go on foot, and a very long and tiring walk it proved to be. Besides Dr. S. and his factotum, Lazo, we took another man with us, a wretched puny individual, but seemingly possessed of more endurance than any of us. He led us by a short cut over rocks, and up slippery breakneck walls of cliffs, over which our guide skipped nimbly, and having reached the top seemingly hours before us, sat down and beamed benevolently.

Half-way, the rain came down in sheets, and we took shelter in a wayside inn, or rather hut. It was crowded with returning pilgrims whom the threatening weather had forced to depart earlier than is their wont.