"Ay. You are Arnaud's whelp," sneered the entrapped man.

"More gentle words would befit the courtesy of my host," was the quiet reply. "But you are as much mistaken as when you took the simple witted Elissa on my commendation. Do not respond, Sire! In your heat you might say that which pride would prevent your recalling. I am a Moslem soldier, and you are my prisoner; as secure as if you were in Constantinople." The visitor threw off the Albanian cape, and revealed the elegantly wrought jacket of the Janizary Aga.

"And what would you have of me? Is there nothing that can satisfy you less than my life?" asked Amesa.

"My n.o.ble Amesa," said Ballaban Aga, taking a seat and motioning the Voivode to another. "Years ago I gave you my word in honor that I would serve you against Scanderbeg. I have come to redeem that pledge, and you must help me."

"How can that be, if you are an officer of the Moslems?" asked Amesa, taking the seat, and adopting the low tone of the other; for these words had excited in him all his cupidity, and stirred his natural secretiveness and habit of sinister dealing. His eyes ceased to glare like a tiger's when at bay; they shone now like a snake's.

"Amesa must enter the service of the Padishah."

"Impossible!" cried he; but in a tone that indicated, not indignant rejection of the proposition; rather doubt of its practicability.

"But first you must raise here in Albania the standard of revolt against Scanderbeg, claiming the t.i.tle of king of Epirus and the Dibrias for yourself. Scanderbeg's sword will, of course, compel the next step--your safety in the Turkish camp. The Padishah will then become your patron, offering to withdraw his armies and restore the ancient liberties of the country, with the solitary limitation that you shall acknowledge the suzerainty of the Sultan. The revenues you may collect shall remain in your possession for the strengthening of your local power. The defection of Moses Goleme well nigh destroyed the leadership of Scanderbeg--yours will complete the work. Yet it will not be defection; rather, as Moses Goleme regarded it, the truest service of your country, because the only service that is practicable."

"But I cannot thus break with the patriot leaders," said Amesa, apparently having felt a real touch of honor.

"It must be," replied the Aga. "You cannot longer remain as you are, even if you would. You, Sire, have been guilty of some great crime.

Nay, do not deny it! Nor need you take time to give expression to any wrath you may feel on being plainly accused of it," continued Ballaban, silencing Amesa more effectively by the straight look into his eyes than by his words. "My moments here are too few to talk about the matter, and you should have exhausted any feeling you may have had in private penitence heretofore, rather than reserve it until another person lays it to your charge. But the point is this:--Scanderbeg is aware of your crime, and awaits only the opportune moment to punish you as it deserves."

"How do you know that?" said Amesa, the bright gleam of his eye changing to a stony stare, as the color failed from his face, and he leaned back in ghastly consternation.

"It is enough that I know it. The Janizaries have not roamed these Albanian hills for twelve years without finding out the secrets of the country. The holes in the ground are our ears, and the very owls spy for us through the dark. But enough of words. Sign this, and set to it your seal!"

Ballaban presented a parchment, offering formally, in the name of the Sultan, the government of Albania to Amesa, on the condition set forth above.

"I would consider the"--began Amesa; but he was cut short by Ballaban--

"No! sign instantly! I have done for you all the considering that is necessary, and must be gone."

"But," began Amesa again, "so important a matter--"

"Sign instantly!" repeated Ballaban; and, pointing to the door where the soldiers stood waiting their orders--"or neither Amesa nor his castle will exist until the day breaks."

The baffled man took from a niche in the wall a horn of thickened ink, and, with the wooden pen, made his signature, and pressed the ancient seal of the De Streeses against the ball of softened wax attached to it.

"This will serve to keep you true: for if by the next fulness of the moon Amesa's standard be not raised against Scanderbeg's, this, as evidence of your treason, shall be read in all your Albanian camps,"

said Ballaban, placing the doc.u.ment in his bosom. "And should you need to confer with your new friends, your faithful Drakul may inquire at our lines for Ballaban Badera, Aga of the Janizaries."

With a low salam he withdrew. A few m.u.f.fled orders, a shuffling of feet, and the castle was as quiet as the stars that looked down upon it.

FOOTNOTES:

[105] The firman of Sultan Mahomet was never revoked, and from his time until the extinction of the order of Janizaries by Sultan Mahmoud, in 1834, the Padishah always appointed the Chief Aga.

[106] The word Drakul signifies in Servian "the Devil."

CHAPTER LIII.

The martial pride of the Ottoman never made a more imposing demonstration than when his armies deployed upon the plain of Pharsalia[107] in Thessaly, and threatened the southern frontier of Albania. Nor had Jove, who, according to the mythologic conception, held his court upon the summit of the not distant Olympus--looked down upon such a display of earthly power since, fifteen centuries before, the armies of Pompey and Caesar there contended for the domination of the Roman world. For Mahomet II. had sworn his mightiest oath, that, by one blow, he would now sweep all the Arnaout rebels into the sea; and that the waves of the Adriatic over against Italy, and those of the Mediterranean which washed the Greek peninsula, and the Euxine that stayed the steps of the Muscovite, should sing with their confluent waves the glories of the European Empire of the Ottoman which lay between them.

The menace to Scanderbeg's domain was not chiefly in the numbers of men whom the redoubtable Isaac Pasha now commanded in the name of the Sultan; but in the fact that the mighty host was accompanied by Amesa, the new "King of Albania."

The defection of the Voivode had sent consternation through the hearts of the patriots. Their leaders looked with suspicion into one another's faces as they gathered in council; for no one knew but that his comrade was in secret league with the enemy. Wearied with trials, the soldiers whispered in the camps that Amesa was a Castriot as well as Scanderbeg. Italians of rank, who had loaned their swords to the great chieftain, were returning to their homes, saying that it was not worth while to risk their lives and fortunes in defending a people who were no longer agreed in defending themselves. Scanderbeg, apparently unwilling or unable to cope with this double danger,--the power of the Ottoman without, and a civil war within his land--retired to Lyssa,[108] far away to the north.

The Turks determined to inaugurate their final conquest, by the formal coronation of their ally, so that, heralded by King Amesa's proclamations, they might advance more readily to the occupation of the land. The day was set for the ceremony of the royal invest.i.ture.

As their scouts, ranging far and wide, reported no enemy to be near, the attention of the army was given to preparation for the splendid pageants, the very story of which should awe the simple peasant population into submission, or seduce their hearts with the hope of having so magnificent a patron.

The day before that appointed for this glorious dawn of the new royalty, was one of intense heat, in the middle of July. The snows had melted even from the summit of the Thessalian Olympus, though its bare pinnacle yonder pierced the sky nearly ten thousand feet above the sea. Armor was heaped in the tents. Horses unsaddled were gathered in stockades, or tethered far out on the gla.s.sy plain. Soldiers stretched themselves under the shadow of the trees, or wandered in groups through the deserted gardens and orchards of the neighboring country, feasting upon the early ripened fruits. Only the eagles that circled the air high above the vast encampment, or perched upon the crags of distant hills, seemed to have any alarm; for now and then they darted off with a shrill cry.

But an eye, like that of a mysterious retributive Providence, was peering through the thicket that crested a high hill. Scanderbeg, presumed to be far away, had studied the plain long and intently; when, turning to Constantine, who was at his side, he said:

"Now plan me a raid through that flock of silly sheep. Where would you strike, my boy?"

Constantine replied, "There is but one point at which we could enter the plain,--through yonder depression. The hills on either side would conceal the advance until well upon them. Besides, the narrowness of the valley, and the growth of trees would prevent their meeting us with more than man for man."

Scanderbeg shook his head.

"The Turks know that place invites attack as well as we do, and have ranged so as to prevent surprise there. But yonder line of trees and copse leads almost to the centre of their camp."

"But it is exposed to view on either side," replied Constantine.

"So much the better," said Castriot, "and therefore it is not guarded even in Isaac Pasha's thought. It would take longer after the alarm to range against us there than in the ravine. Their cavalry is all on this side the trees. They could not cut through the bushes before we were by the horse-tails yonder, there by the Pasha's tent."

"But is it not too open?" said Constantine, almost incredulous.

"Yes, at any other time than this, when the Turks are not dreaming of our being within a dozen leagues of them. The very boldness of such an attack as this at high noon-tide will be better for us than any scheming. And, if I mistake not, and our beasts are not too jaded by the long march, we shall have the souls out of a thousand or so of the Turks before they can get their bodies into armor. And I give to you, my boy, the care of our nephew, Amesa. Be diverted by no side play, but cut your way straight to him. If possible, spare his life, but he must never get a crown upon his head."

As silently as the summer's fleecy clouds gather into the storm, the band of patriots, summoned from their various quarters, gathered behind the spur of the hill. The Turks were startled as with a sudden rising tempest. Beys and Pashas and Agas had scarcely emerged from their tents, when five thousand Albanian cavalrymen were already turning the line of the woods. On they came with the celerity of a flock of birds just skimming the ground. The sentry flew as the leaves before the wind. The very mult.i.tude of the Turks, driven toward the centre, but fed the dripping swords of the a.s.sailants. Among the tents wound the compact array of Albanian riders, like a huge serpent. On and on it rolled, scarcely pausing to repel attack. Dividing, one part crushed the headquarters of Isaac, while the other wrapped in its crunching folds the splendid camp of Amesa.

Bravely did this young Absalom defend his unfledged royalty.

Surrounded by a group of Albanian renegades like himself, he fought desperately, well knowing the dire vengeance which should follow his capture. But one by one they fell. Amesa remained almost alone, as yet unharmed. The captain of the Albanian troops commanded a halt, and, dismounting, he demanded Amesa's surrender.

"To none but a Castriot will a Castriot surrender!" cried the infuriate man, making a lunge at the challenger. The thrust was avoided.

"You shall surrender to another," cried the Albanian officer. "Stand back, men, he shall yield to me alone."

"Who are you?" growled the challenged man.

"One who has the right to avenge the wrong done to Mara de Streeses,"

was the reply.

Quick as a panther Amesa leaped upon him. But the tremendous blow he aimed, might as well have been delivered against a rock, as against the sword of Constantine. The effort threw him off his balance; and before he could recover himself, the tremendous slash of his opponent, though warded, brought him to the ground. In an instant Constantine's knee was upon his breast, and his sword at his throat.

"Do you surrender?"