"The Circassian Chief" (continued 7)

As soon as their young mistress had mounted, the women and the rest of the party followed her example, her father riding by her side, to guide her palfrey through the more difficult part of the road. The women servants and slaves followed next; the household attendants bringing up the rear with the baggage horses. As the cavalcade proceeded along the plateau or terrace before described, and wound down the steep sides of the mountain, and along the valley towards the sea, it was joined by bands of horsemen, of ten to twenty at a time, arriving from different directions; so that, by the time they had reached the defile which opened on the sea-coast, the party amounted to nearly a hundred warriors.

Some of them were nobles of little consequence or wealth, who were glad to attach themselves to the standard of so gallant a leader as the brave Uzden Arslan Gherrei; and others were yeomen and freemen, who had been followers of his family for ages. Some wore entire suits of armour; others, only breast-plates and helmets; others, were without any defensive armour; but all were completely supplied with weapons: light guns slung at the back, scimitars attached to their sides, pistols in their belts behind, and the cama or dagger at their waists. The rest wore the tight-fitting Circassian coat, the cloth or fur cap, and a large cloak over the shoulder; so that the whole of the party had a bold, martial appearance; the horses curvetting and careering, and the leader’s banner borne at the head, fluttering in the wind.

It was, in truth, a noble and gallant looking little band, worthy to be led by such a chief. And Ina’s eyes flashed with enthusiasm and animation, as she rode by her father’s side, at their head, guarded on each side by a few of the most favoured and honoured.

In order to avoid the more rugged and difficult passage over the mountains, the chieftain had, for his daughter’s sake, chosen a route along the sea-coast, affording a plain and even path for some distance towards the north, before it would be necessary for him to strike inland towards the place of their destination. After riding for some distance by the side of the clear stream, flowing through the valley, they passed the narrow gorge which formed its entrance, emerging from it into the open coast of the blue sea, whose waves rippled on the bright hard sand at their feet.

High on their right, rose lofty mountains, covered with shrubs of every varied form and hue. Sometimes they passed beneath the boughs of wide-spreading trees, whose grateful shade sheltered them from the heat of the sun, now rising high in the heavens; and again where the gentle breath of the sea-breeze came soft and cooling to their cheeks.

The leader kept his small troop together, except a few of the younger men, who galloped about in every direction, both to ascertain whether any enemies were lurking about, and to amuse themselves by martial exercises; now throwing the djereed with unerring aim, now galloping their fiery steeds up the steep sides of the mountain, amid rocks which appeared to afford scarce footing even for the nimble goats; then dashing amid the cooling waters of the clear blue sea, and swimming their well-trained steeds at some distance out in a line with the shore. There some would join in mimic fight, chasing after, or flying from each other along the hard sandy margin of the ocean. Not a few, indeed, were eager to exhibit their feats of horsemanship before their chieftain’s fair daughter, whose bright smile every now and then offered rich reward for any superior display of dexterity or courage.

They were now approaching the neighbourhood of Ghelendjik. Though little danger was to be apprehended from their foes; who scarcely left their entrenchments, and never without a strong force when driven out by famine to forage in the neighbouring country; yet as a good commander, Arslan Gherrei considered it necessary to lead his men more carefully along the Dehli Khans keeping a stricter watch in every direction.

To avoid the fort, it was necessary to leave the sea shore, and to proceed over some rugged paths further into the interior. A rapid and deep stream, however, the Mezi, crossed their path, before they could reach a part of the mountains practicable for their horses and baggage. The nearest ford was close to the mouth of the stream; so that, to enable the women and their goods to pass over secure from wet, it was necessary to return again to the margin of the sea, which they had previously left for a short distance, in order to pass through a shady grove on level ground. The young men, however, at once dashed into the stream, quickly swimming their horses over, and galloped along on the bank of the side they had gained to meet the rest of the party, and assist them in crossing, which, with some difficulty, on account of the depth of the water, they accomplished.

The warlike little band, forming in order, turned again from the sea, to proceed along the bank of the stream, to the entrance of a vast gorge, through which its waters passed.

Few scenes could have more of wild grandeur than the one now before them. The foaming waters of the stream, dashing over its rocky bed, were lined, where the crevices of the rocks afforded root for them, with willow, elder, and other trees and shrubs. On each side of the gorge, were dark and lofty rocks, overhung with bending shrubs and creeping plants, which fell in thick festoons; while the sides of the mountains, rising high above the shore, and crowned to the summit with thick growing trees, were so precipitous, as to afford but a narrow, steep, and winding path, difficult even for the nimble horses of the Circassians.

Ina gazed up the steep sides of the mountain with doubt and hesitation, as to the possibility of crossing it; but finding her father about to proceed to the fort, she prepared to accompany him.

Some horsemen, who were sent in advance to clear a passage among the thick branches of trees and the underwood which impeded their progress, were about to scale the side of the mountain, when a loud shout from the rest of the band, rending the sky, called them back. At the same moment, a terrific crash, and report of cannon, sending forth a death-dealing shower of grape, laid many of the foremost low. Arslan Gherrei turned in the direction from whence the iron shower came; and calling to some of his retainers to follow, galloped furiously up the glen, without a moment’s hesitation, towards a mound rising slightly above the stream, on which now appeared a row of light field-pieces, guarded by a body of Russian troops, who had before been concealed by the ground they now occupied. At the same moment, the sides of the mountain, up which their intended route lay, glittered with hostile bayonets.

Half the Circassian band, raising their terrific war-cry, rushed with headlong speed, led by their gallant chief, against the guns. The heavy discharge of musketry which met their advance, did not check them; and, with irresistible force, they drove the gunners from their posts, causing the troops to recoil before them. The Russians, panic-stricken by their shouts, and the impetuosity of their onset, made slight resistance, as the Circassians, seizing the guns, hurled them with several of their defenders into the torrent; and were about to follow up their success against the party of soldiers who guarded the glen, when they were recalled by a loud shout from their comrades. Turning, they perceived the opposite side of the stream lined by a strong body of troops, who, as they passed down, opened a heavy fire on them; while, from behind every tree which clothed the mountain, appeared more of their enemies. Turning their horse’s heads, they again galloped back, in spite of the bullets which assailed them, to answer the call of their friends.

The party whom they had left to protect their fair charge, seemed not to attract the hostility of their foes, for among that band none had fallen; but, at the moment they were again about to join, a strong troop of Cossacks were seen advancing at full gallop, with loud shouts, to attack them.

“There has been treachery at work, oh! men of Attèghèi! or we should never have been caught in this toil; but, my gallant friends, we must cut our way through them, or die, wreaking due vengeance on their heads. Let us now remember that we fight for the fair ones we are bound to protect. On, my brave followers—on, men of Attèghèi, and shew our dastard foes that we fear not a host such as they. We will hew a way for ourselves through their crowded ranks, and pass the guns of their fort, leaving those who may survive our charge to follow if they will. On, gallant warriors, on!” shouted their noble leader.

Hearing these words, the band again raised their terrific war-cry, overpowering the rattling sound of the musketry, and rushed impetuously to meet the charge which the advancing troops of fierce Cossacks seemed about to make.

On both parties rushed, shrieking in their eagerness; their eyes starting from their sockets; their sabres clenched firmly in their hands; the hoofs of their steeds spurning the soil, and foam flying from their nostrils. The meeting crash of the hostile cavalry was terrific; but many of the first ranks of the Cossacks were overthrown by the superior agility of the Circassian warriors, their active steeds well seconding their riders, as their swords whirled rapidly round their heads, and descended with tremendous force on the unguarded bodies of their foes, whose sabres were shivered against their steel breast-plates and helmets.

So fierce was the onslaught of the mountaineers, that the sturdy horsemen of the plain recoiled at first before their desperate charge. They might have succeeded in cutting their way through the ranks of their opponents, had they not been already weakened, and their numbers thinned by the deadly fire of the infantry, who continued to harass their rear from a distance; part only as yet having reached the spot to which the combat had been removed. These were kept at bay by a few horsemen who wheeled rapidly again and again when they ventured to approach; caring but little for the infantry, whom they despised now that their guns were destroyed; yet the force of the Cossacks was almost overpowering, so that nothing but the most determined and desperate bravery would have excited the Circassians to persist in the unequal combat.

Their movements too were impeded by the women. The young Ina, undaunted amid the scene of desperate strife, endeavoured to urge her palfrey to her father’s side; and was almost surrounded by the enemy, when the chieftain hewed his way towards her, and cleared a passage for her escape. Yet, notwithstanding the most heroic and desperate fighting, the Circassians were at length driven back towards the river, when nothing seemed to remain for them but to sell their lives dearly, or to yield themselves as prisoners to their detested foes. The courage of the chieftain, even then, quailed not before the danger; but he thought of his loved Ina, and what her fate might be should he fall.

Again shouting their war-cry, his clansmen rallied round him, having retreated a short space to renew the charge. On they rushed with a furious shock; but it was only to find the hopelessness of their attempt.

The attacks of the foes seemed principally directed against the chieftain Arslan Gherrei himself, as he was easily distinguished by his lofty plume, his jewelled poniard, his rich shining armour, his impetuous valour, and his noble bearing. The Cossacks pressed round him, though many of their comrades bit the dust beneath his horse’s feet. A spell seemed thrown over himself and his charger, for the shot fell harmlessly around them. The noble animal was equally energetic in the combat, rushing onward, and trampling down his foes, or seizing the advancing horses with his mouth, trying to overthrow them. (A well-known fact. The Arab horses constantly fight in this way, with or without riders.)

Ina, amid the fierce slaughter and loud din of the combat, thought only of her father, following him with her eyes whenever the tide of battle carried him from her. Towards her, also, many desperate attacks were made by the enemy in the attempt apparently to possess themselves of so lovely a prize; but too many gallant hearts were yet beating with life, to allow her assailants to succeed while they could yet wield their weapons.

Among their opponents was one who frequently led the attack, charging impetuously towards Ina, whenever she was separated from her father; but it appeared that he, at all times, avoided meeting the chieftain hand to hand; and once, when he had almost reached Ina, Arslan Gherrei again returned to her side; and the Cossack officer, as he seemed, turned the tide of war in another direction. He was a person of great strength and height, dressed in the Cossack uniform, except that a cap shrouded his face; but in the skirmish, his vest flying open, discovered a coat of chain armour, and his cap at the same moment falling off, exhibited the fierce features of the young Khan Besin Kaloret. A shout of execration arose from the band of his adopted countrymen, as they discovered the traitor, and many an arm sought to cut him down; but, conscious of his shame, he seemed to avoid the strife. Seeing the effect that his conduct had on the Cossacks, and that he might, after all, lose his prize, he again desperately joined the combat, which had become fiercer than ever.

The children of the mountains were still undaunted. Placing the women in the centre, they determined to succeed in cutting their way, or to perish in the attempt. Their war-cry was answered from above their heads; and looking up, they perceived a band of warriors amid the trees on the mountain’s brow, dashing furiously down with headlong speed to join them.

Scarcely had the Russian infantry, posted in the path, time to perceive their danger, when the fresh band of Circassian warriors were upon them, cutting down some with their sharp sabres, trampling over others, and hurling the rest over the precipices, till none remained to impede their furious course.

As the gallant men reached the strand, they were met by a strong party of Russian infantry formed into a hollow square, bristling with bayonets. But, like a wild mountain torrent, broken loose from some Alpine lake, nothing could withstand their overwhelming fury. Concentrating their voices into one loud rending shout, of the most dreadful sound, they galloped with uplifted sabres at the steel formed wall.

The Russian front ranks trembled, wavered, and gave way before their desperate charge, which seemed more like a torrent of wild spirits, than of men, like themselves; unnerving their arms, and causing their blood to run cold. The fierce horsemen who rushed over their prostrate bodies, to succour their hard-pressed countrymen, were led on by a noble looking cavalier, without defensive armour of any sort, and in the simple costume of the country; but whose sword dealt dreadful havoc amid the foe, as he cut his way through their broken ranks.

Among this newly-arrived troop of Circassians, were several chiefs in armour, some of whom joined the young leader, and others with their retainers, turned to follow up their success over the infantry, and prevent their rallying.

Onward flew the young hero, like a flash of lightning, followed by his squire, and by a youthful page, who kept close to his side, with a gallant array of horsemen. They shouted loudly to give their countrymen notice of the succour close at hand, and dashed furiously against the Cossacks with so tremendous a shock, as to drive them bodily back for an instant, and to give Arslan Gherrei, and his followers, breathing time to recover from their exertions.

But the Cossacks, to revenge themselves for the check given to their nearly-won victory, soon recovering from the effects of the last charge, gathered in overwhelming numbers round the chieftain Arslan Gherrei, attacking his followers so furiously, as to separate him from them, and to hem him in completely. His gallant steed wheeled and pranced high, attentive to the rein, till receiving a wound in his neck, he became weak from loss of blood, and began to falter in his movements. Hard pressed by numbers, the chief was nearly overpowered, when the young leader we have spoken of, saw his peril, and galloped to his rescue.

At the same moment, Besin Khan, with a strong body of Cossacks, wheeling round, made a furious charge at the spot, where Ina had been forced by the press of the combatants to move, when separated from her father, with a few Circassians only around her. Seizing her horse’s rein, after a desperate defence by her guards, he was on the point of carrying her off, when the young stranger leader, followed by a small party, rushed towards him, and cutting down all who opposed him, pressed the Khan so hard, that he was obliged to quit his hold, in order to defend himself. The lady Ina, thus restored to momentary safety among the women, and some of her father’s retainers, again hastened to join the combatants.

The traitor Khan, who had recovered from his repulse, now seeing the stranger without armour, singled him out in hopes of making him fall an easy prey. Their swords met: a furious conflict ensued between them: one backed by his adherents, the other by the Cossacks. Victory seemed doubtful, but Besin Khan’s strength prevailed, and the young hero’s sword being beaten down, the weapon of his opponent was about to fall on his unguarded head, when ere it could descend, a shot from the pistol of the youthful page struck the breast of the traitor. He reeled in his saddle. For a moment, he attempted to keep his seat, but in vain. His weapon dropped powerlessly by his side; his knees refused to press his horse’s sides; and his eyes rolling wildly, he fell heavily to the ground, where his body lay trampled on by the prancing steeds of the combatants.

A piercing cry of joy escaped the boy’s lips, as his master was saved; and Arslan Gherrei, at that moment joining him, the two leaders fought side by side, heading their followers in many desperate onslaughts, till the Cossacks, despairing of victory, endeavoured to save themselves by flight. As they galloped off, however, they loaded their short guns, and turned to discharge them at their eager pursuers.

The Chieftain loudly called on his clansmen to desist, for they had still many opponents. Those who heard him, obeyed; but others followed their foes to within range of the guns of fort Ghelendjik.

To complete their victory, the Circassians had still a powerful force of infantry to conquer, who had kept up a galling fire on the horsemen, during the whole time of the combat.

The Circassian chiefs, collecting all their followers, again charged the enemy in a strong body, breaking through their ranks, cutting them down, driving them into the sea, and carrying away as prisoners many who threw down their arms and begged for quarter. A few of the leading ranks of the Russians succeeded in escaping; and those only by a strong force from the fort, with some artillery, sallying out to succour them.

Content with their victory, the Circassian leaders assembled their followers. Some were occupied in collecting their wounded and dead countrymen, and placing them on their horses; others, in collecting the Russian arms and ammunition, most valuable to them at that time; and others, in dragging away the prisoners whom they had captured.

Among the dead, was found the body of the traitor Besin Khan; and every warrior, as he passed, cast a stone at it, with a low, muttered curse, leaving it to rot among the carcases of the hated Urus, or to be devoured by the wild beasts of the forest, and the birds of the air; the greatest indignity they could shew it.

The Russian prisoners willingly followed their new masters, glad to escape the confinement and danger of the camp, for the safety and free range of the country; preferring, to the iron tyranny of the Imperial army, a servitude under the kind-hearted Circassians.

No sooner was the fight over, than Arslan Gherrei hastened to the spot where Ina and her women had been stationed, anxious to learn if either she or her attendants had suffered from the fire of the retreating infantry. All were unhurt; and his lovely daughter, though still pale, had begun to recover from the terror into which his danger had thrown her. Great was her admiration and her gratitude, when she saw the gallant stranger rush so heroically to his aid; and she longed, with feminine eagerness, to express to him her deep thanks; but as she looked round to discover him, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, my father!” exclaimed Ina, as the chieftain rode up, “Heaven be praised, that you have escaped unharmed from this dreadful combat; and that I again see you after the terrible perils to which you have been exposed! I thought never more to have been pressed in your arms!”

“Allah, by the means of that noble young stranger, protected me, my child,” replied the chieftain: “but we must stay no longer here; let us hasten from this scene of death.”

“Gladly will I go,” said Ina. “But first let us thank our gallant preserver; for know you, my father, that when you were separated from me, I was surrounded by those terrible Cossacks, when he came, like a protecting angel, with the speed of lightning, and saved me from the power of that traitorous Khan. Oh! my father, I have much to thank him for!”

“I will seek him, my Ina,” replied the chieftain. “Oh! had heaven but spared me such a son as he, to delight my heart with his noble deeds, I should have been content: but the will of Allah be done—he is great!”

Ordering some of his band to escort Ina and her women up the mountain, he rode round to seek the chiefs of the party who had brought him such timely assistance. He first recognised the aged warrior, Uzden Achmet Beg, and, throwing himself from his horse, he hastened to thank him. The two chiefs warmly grasped each other’s hands; a few manly words sufficing to show the gratitude of one whom the other well knew would have acted in the same way towards him. As he turned, his eye fell on the Hadji Guz Beg, who was advancing to meet him, though he at first scarcely recognised him after his long absence, disfigured as he was with the dust and smoke of the conflict.

“Is it indeed you, my father, my friend?” he exclaimed. “Most welcome, are you to our native land, and well have you shown this day that, among the effeminate nations in whose lands you have journeyed, you have not forgotten the use of your sharp sword. Thanks, brave Hadji, for your timely succour.”

“Oh! it is nothing,” replied the Hadji, laughing; “I will soon show the Urus that I love them not better than of yore. And you, Uzden, glad I am to see you, and to have lost no time in wetting my blade in the blood of the cursed Urus for your sake.”

“Thanks, many thanks, my father,” answered the chief. “But where is that gallant young warrior, who rushed so bravely to my aid when hard pressed by the Cossacks?”

“He is my friend, my adopted son,” replied the Hadji; “a true son of the Attèghèi, as he has this day shown himself to be; but he gives not his name, nor know I even whence he comes. He will first do some deed to win a name for himself, and to show himself worthy of his father and his tribe; and happy will be the father who can own him.”

“Happy will he be, indeed,” replied Arslan Gherrei, sighing; “for he is well worthy to be the son of the bravest of our chiefs. Whither has he gone? Let me hasten to thank him.”

“I saw him last,” replied the Hadji, “closely pursuing the flying troops; I thought he had returned. Perhaps he and his followers have already gone up the mountain’s side.”

“Allah forbid that the brave youth should have been laid low by the fire of the enemy, or fallen into their cursed power; for little mercy would they show him.”

Search was made in every direction for the gallant stranger, but he could nowhere be found; and the chieftains, at length summoning the remainder of their warriors, hastened to overtake the party who had preceded them.

Volume Two—Chapter Twelve.

As our hero was attacking the retiring troops of the Russians, he observed a young officer endeavouring to form his men into squares, and to keep them in close order to repel the desperate charges of the wild mountain cavalry.

Again and again were they broken; and at one time, by a furious charge, Ivan succeeded in riding close up to the officer, in hope of taking him prisoner; when, to his sorrow, he recognised in his opponent his former friend, Thaddeus Stanisloff. Before he had time to summon him to surrender, one of the Circassian horsemen was on the point of cutting him down, when, throwing himself forward, he interposed his own sword, and saved his friend from destruction. A shot directly after killed the Circassian; and Ivan, calling upon Thaddeus by name, entreated him to surrender. But at the moment the young Pole recognised him, the Russians rushed forward with desperation to rescue their officer, and Ivan was himself obliged to retreat with his followers. He had no further opportunity of getting near enough to Thaddeus to speak to him; for the retreat of the defeated infantry was soon after covered by the arrival of a strong body of troops from Ghelendjik; and the Circassian warriors were obliged to quit the pursuit of their prey.

Like the last heavy cloud of a thunder-storm, the mountaineers made a tremendous charge on the remnant of the retreating Russians, almost overwhelming them in their fury; and then, like a whirlwind, they swept by before the arrival of the fresh troops, and galloped off to overtake their companions.

As Ivan was passing the prisoners, he heard a voice calling to him by name. He started, and turned to see whence it came; for he fancied he recognised the tone; and in a miserable object, his dress torn and covered with blood, he saw his former attendant, the faithful Karl, in the hands of a mountaineer, who, on a promise of a slight recompense, consented to give up his prize to his young leader.

As soon as poor Karl was liberated, he rushed to Ivan’s side to express his gratitude. “My honest, my kind friend,” said our hero, “it makes my heart beat quickly to see your old familiar face. Banish all fears, for no one here will ill-treat you. You shall be at liberty to go where you like, or to return to your countrymen in the castle of Ghelendjik.”

“Oh, my dear master,” replied Karl; “don’t, for mercy’s sake, talk of sending me back; for that is the very last place that I know of in the world, that I should wish to return to. Let me be your servant and slave as before, for I would not give a glass of quass for the freedom we gain, by becoming soldiers. Let me follow you wherever you go.”

“Well, my good friend,” replied Ivan; “you shall do as you wish; but we have no time to lose, or we may all fall again into the hands of the Russians. Keep, therefore by my side, till we get beyond the reach of the enemy.”

Saying which, Ivan rode on with his companions, Karl holding by his stirrup.

During the whole of the combat and skirmishing we have described, young Conrin and Javis were by Ivan’s side, charging into the thickest of the enemy; and many a blow did the page ward off from his master, while the squire was as much occupied in protecting him, for he seemed scarcely to think of himself. The boy’s eye burned with an almost unnatural lustre, and his lips were closely pressed, as with sword in hand, he rushed amid the fierce mêlée; but he seemed to bear a charmed life, for neither steel or bullet touched him.

While our hero was proceeding at a fast pace along the sea shore, followed by his two attendants, and a body of mountaineers, who had no little difficulty in dragging on some of their captives, and were besides, heavily laden with arms taken from the enemy, a loud shout made them turn their heads, when they perceived a large body of Cossacks fresh from the fort, coming at full gallop towards them. The horses of all the party were already fatigued with the fight and pursuit; they had small chance of escape by flight, and they were too far outnumbered by the foe, to hope to gain the victory in a second engagement. Yet, what was to be done? It was better to die fighting bravely with their faces to the enemy, than to be cut down in an ignominious flight; and at all hazards, Ivan ordered his men to wheel round, and receive the charge of the coming cavalry, though the odds were dreadfully against them, when one of the Circassian horsemen, calling to his companions to follow, led the way through a steep narrow ravine, thickly overhung with trees.

Here, at all events, they could fight at an advantage, if the Cossacks attempted to follow; but most of the party had enough of fighting for the day. They eagerly followed their guide up the mountain, which appeared almost insurmountable for the animals. Karl, in greater haste than any of the party to escape from his late masters, scrambled up the rocks with the utmost agility, scarcely looking behind, to see if Ivan followed; who, finding; the uselessness of further fighting, rode after the rest; and they had already gained a considerable height, when the Cossacks arrived at the base of the mountain.

Their horses, though fleet, were unable to compete with the goat-like nimbleness of the Circassian steeds; and, as they rode about seeking for a practicable way to follow, many of their number fell beneath the unerring aim of the mountaineers. Vainly returning the shots which told so fearfully among their ranks, they rode up the mountain in desperation; and at last, finding the pathway by which the Circassians had escaped, and attempting to ride up it, they were still more at the mercy of their enemy; till at length, despairing of overtaking them, and having lost many of their number, their officers called them off, and they galloped back to the fort, leaving our hero and his band to pursue their route unmolested.

From the spot they had now reached, it was much more easy to mount than to descend. Continuing, therefore, their upward course among broken crags and stumps of trees, leaping and climbing from rock to rock, after infinite labour, they at last reached the flat ground, which crowned the summit of the mountain; when, striking across the country, they perceived the bands of Arslan Gherrei, and the Hadji, with the chieftain’s daughter and her women.

No sooner did Ivan and his small band appear at the summit of the hill, than the keen eye of the Hadji caught sight of him; and spurring on his steed, he came to meet him, almost lifting him from his horse, as he rode up to his side to embrace him; at the same time, exclaiming with accents of delight: “Welcome to my arms, my son! I feared one of the future heroes of the Attèghèi might have been slain by those rascal Cossacks, as you could nowhere be found after the fight. But my heart leaps with joy, to see you alive; for well have you fought this day, and full worthy are you to be called a son of the Attèghèi! My eye was on you, when you first charged the Cossack horse, and I was then confident you would prove no disgrace to your country; for bravely you fell upon them; and one of the noblest of our Uzdens says, that you gallantly came to his aid, when hard pressed by our foes. His fair daughter seeks to shew you her gratitude, for rescuing her from the hands of Besin Khan, that vile traitor. So, my son, you have lost no time in becoming known as a gallant warrior, and the praise of the chief, whom you rescued, is alone the proudest meed you could gain.”

“Happy, indeed am I, to have won his praise then,” replied Ivan; “and not the less your’s, my kind friend. But I hope, with your guidance, ere long to win more laurels in my country’s cause.”

They waited till Arslan Gherrei and his band came up; when the chieftain, leaping from his horse, Ivan doing the same, advanced to meet him.

“My gallant young hero!” he exclaimed, embracing him, “though a stranger, as I hear, in our land, you have this day shewn yourself as valiant as the bravest of our chiefs; and a deep debt do I owe you, not only for saving my life, but in rescuing my only child from the hands of our enemy. Think not, that if I am wanting in the power of expressing my feelings, my heart thanks you the less. My child too longs to throw herself at your feet, to express her gratitude.”

“Speak not thus noble chieftain, for you owe me nothing,” cried Ivan. “I acted but the duty of a warrior, nor deserve thanks for so doing; and tell your fair daughter, that to have been of service to her, is my greatest happiness. The gratitude of all is, however, due to my father, the Hadji Guz Beg; for he it was, who shewed us the way into action.”

“Do not thank me, my friends,” exclaimed the Hadji; “for I have not been so happy for years. Inshallah! we left not a few of our foes on the field. But we must not delay here, my friends; the day is far spent, and if we lose more time, we shall not reach our konag before dark.”

Mounting their horses, therefore, they overtook the rest of the party, passing the Armenian pedlar and his pack horses. He had remained on the summit of the hill when the Hadji’s band galloped down to join the fight—a distant hearer of the combat, though not venturing to approach near enough to the edge of the cliffs, to see what was going forward below.

“Ah, man of trade!” exclaimed the Hadji, laughingly, as he rode up; “you look fresh and well. As a spectator of our combat, you have managed to keep yourself cleaner than we have done. How think you, your friends the Russians like it? But you will make a rich harvest; for there are few of our followers who have not something to exchange for your goods.”

Ina gazed earnestly at our hero, as he rode past her; for an unaccountable feeling of bashfulness prevented his addressing her, though, bending low to his saddle bow, he respectfully saluted her, and went on to take his place by the Hadji’s side. Not so, however, his page the young Conrin, who gained a situation near her, earnestly stealing glances at her beautiful features, as her veil was occasionally blown aside; but they seemed not to give him that pleasure, which they so highly merited; for a slight frown and a look of dissatisfaction sat on the boy’s countenance, though he seemed so fascinated that he could not withdraw his eyes from her.

The warlike party now gained another height, close above the bay of Ghelendjik, when the report of musketry was heard. Looking down upon the fort, a wreath of smoke ascended to the sky, and they observed a company of the Russian soldiers drawn up, and a man in the dress of the country fall beneath their fire. A feeling of rage and indignation agitated their breasts, as they fancied some friend might have been thus cruelly murdered; and brandishing their weapons they uttered a loud shout of defiance, and a promise of revenge. They were, however, obliged to retreat behind shelter, for their appearance was a signal for the discharge of all the guns in the fort.

“Bismillah! I wish we had some of their powder and shot, if they can afford to expend it in this way upon the rocks and trees,” exclaimed the Hadji. “But whom have the cowards dared thus to murder before our eyes?”

A young mountaineer, who had been stationed as a scout close to the fort, now made his appearance.

“Yonder died the traitor squire of Besin Khan, who this morning deceived us all by false reports,” said the youth; “and now he has paid the penalty of his deceit, for the Russians have vented their rage at their own defeat on him.”

“It is well,” exclaimed the Hadji. “They have saved us a task, for which they are more fitted.”

As it was found impossible to reach the place at which they had originally intended to stop before night, a nearer konag was fixed upon, and a messenger sent forward to warn the host of their near approach.

The shades of evening were fast coming on, as they caught sight of a smiling village, sequestered in a dell amid the mountains, and shaded by lofty trees. The chimneys with their curling wreaths of smoke, and the shepherds driving home their flocks, afforded a scene of rural beauty and peace, in welcome contrast to that in which they had lately been engaged. As our wayfarers reached the dwelling of the chief of the hamlet, the moon rose above the mountains, throwing her pale golden hue on their summits, and shedding her rays in a silvery stream amid the forest glades, and deep into the recesses of the dale. Numerous domestic slaves ran out to take the horses of the chiefs, who were ushered into the guest-house, by the squire of the lord of the mansion; he himself being absent, mounting guard in the passes from Ghelendjik, above which they had lately passed. Ina and her attendants were delivered over to the care of the wife and daughters of the host.

As Ivan was dismounting, he observed the Armenian merchant regarding the Russian prisoners with an uneasy look, which was increased when he saw Karl in close attendance on himself. Javis also regarded the pedlar with a scrutinising glance.

“There is something in that man’s look that I like not,” said he, addressing Ivan. “I will watch him closely, for if I mistake not, he will be found no true friend to Circassia.”

As the man, unsuspicious of what was said of him, moved onward with his pack horses to take up his abode with one of the inhabitants of the village, of equal rank to himself, Karl came up to Ivan who was standing under the verandah of the guest-house admiring the scene of loveliness before him.

“Hist! sir, hist!” he said. “Did you observe yonder travelling merchant? Where did he come from? I am surprised to see him in such worshipful company; for if my eyes deceive me not, I saw him a few nights ago, as I was on guard near the Baron’s quarters, pass by me twice, and each time a light fell upon his features, so that I think I cannot be mistaken. He remained closeted with the governor for an hour, and then took his way towards the mountains.”

“Is it, indeed, so?” said Ivan. “The man must be closely watched; for it will not be advisable to let a spy go at large. Here, Javis, I give it to your charge to watch the pedlar’s movements. My friends seem to have no suspicion of him; but I will speak to the Hadji, and persuade him to send some shrewd person to assist you, and act as your guide if requisite.”

As he spoke the Hadji himself appeared, and Ivan lost no time in mentioning the suspicions which had been raised about the Armenian’s honesty.

“A spy do you think he is?” he replied; “I suspected the fellow was a knave when he tried to persuade the Prince of Pchad that there was no use in contending with Russia. No use, forsooth! We shewed them as much to-day. But this fellow shall be watched, and he shall pay dearly if he proves treacherous.”

“You are silent, my son; of what are you thinking?”

“I am thinking of a dear friend I once had who is in the ranks of the enemy,” replied Ivan. “He is a noble Pole, who, did he know the true state of this country, would, I feel confident, be ready to shed his best blood in our cause instead of against us. I saved his life to-day; and I long to find means to see him and to bring him over to our party. Say, my father, how I can accomplish it?”

“I scarcely know,” replied the Hadji. “We might send some one on some pretext into the fort; but these Russian rascals are grown suspicious of late, and our young men cannot now play them the tricks they were wont to do. It was a bad system; and our elders put a stop to it. It was at one time a common custom for the young men to go to the Urus, and pretend to be great friends, and then to carry off all the presents they could get, and laugh at their beards. You must now, however, bide your time, and perhaps something may happen, before long, to favour your wishes.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the announcement that the evening meal was served, and at the same time their host arrived from his guard. Throwing off his large dark-coloured watch cloak as he entered, he offered his welcome to all his guests, and congratulations on the success of their recent exploit.

Volume Two—Chapter Thirteen.

The rage and fury of the Baron Galetzoff was ungovernable when, instead of his troops returning with a number of prisoners, the Tchernemorskoi Cossacks first arrived in disorder and dismay at the fort, giving news of the entire defeat of his well-laid plan to entrap the chief Arslan Gherrei and his followers, and of the dangerous situation in which the fugitives had left the infantry. He lost no time in ordering out fresh troops to cover their retreat, and he smiled with grim satisfaction when he heard that the instigator of the plan had fallen. He determined to wreak his vengeance on the hostage who remained, as having forfeited his life by the failure of the enterprise.

The traitor Kiru, suspecting that something had gone wrong from the bustle and excitement around, made a desperate and nearly successful attempt to escape, when he was dragged back by the soldiers, manacled, and chained to a stake, with a strong guard placed over him. No sooner did the governor return from succouring his defeated troops than the prisoner was summoned before him.

“Traitor! you have deceived me!” he exclaimed. “Instead of capturing one of your chiefs, my troops have been defeated; and before another hour has passed you shall die.”

The Tartar looked at him fearlessly.

“If I die,” he said, “my master and my tribe will amply revenge me; you dare not slay me.”

“Do you speak, barbarian, of your master?” said the governor. “Your traitorous master now is a rotting corpse among the bodies of my brave fellows whom he betrayed! Expect not help from him.”

The traitor started at these words, and his courage seemed to give way. “Russian, speak you the words of truth? Has my master indeed fallen?” demanded the prisoner.

“I tell you the truth,” replied the general. “Your master has received the reward of his treachery; and you shall soon follow his fate. I give you ten minutes to prepare; after that you die. Lead him away!” he cried to the guards who held the prisoner.

“Since my master has fallen, what have I more to do with life? I spit at you—I laugh at your threats. Do with me as you will, but I will yet be revenged.” And with herculean strength, throwing aside the soldiers who held him, he had nearly reached the throat of the governor when he was felled to the ground. He was again manacled and led off, using every epithet of abuse, to shew his scorn of his executioners.

At the lapse of the specified time, he was led outside the ramparts of the fort, where he was again chained to a stake to prevent any chance of his escape. His shallow grave was dug beneath his feet. His courage was indeed worthy of a better fate and better cause, for he quailed not during the preparations.

A company of soldiers advanced; and as they presented their muskets he shook his manacled and clenched hands at them in an attitude of defiance, and uttering, with a dreadful shriek, the war-cry of his tribe, his body was pierced with innumerable wounds. Ere the yet warm clay had ceased to vibrate with the pulse of life, the corpse was thrown into the shallow hole prepared for it, and instantly covered up; so that in a few minutes from the time a human being had stood there with all the energy and strength of life, he was for ever hidden from the sight of men, and a little new turned up earth alone marked the spot of the tragedy.

None can pity the fate of Kim, which he so richly deserved, though not at the hands of his executioners. But it would be fortunate for the Russian name if it were not stained with atrocities of a much darker hue. The garrison of the fort remained all the rest of the day in a state of watchfulness and alarm, in expectation of an attack from the mountaineers, whom they thought their weakened state might tempt to come down upon them, if a sufficient force could be assembled in the neighbourhood; their fears however were groundless, for the day passed away without any further appearance of the enemy.

Some hours after dark, a figure was perceived by the outer picket stealing cautiously from beneath the shadow of the cliffs towards his post. The person, on being challenged, gave the sign and countersign, and was allowed to pass to the gate of the fort, where, the like caution being employed, he was admitted, and conducted to the quarters of the governor. The Baron looked up on seeing him enter, with an expression of satisfaction.

“Ah! my faithful Armenian,” he exclaimed, “I rejoice to see you return here in safety. What news do you bring me from the enemy’s country? Do the barbarians think of attacking us?”

“I bring you some news which may please you, noble General, though not much of general importance,” replied the seeming Armenian, in very good Russian.

“Let me hear it quickly then; for I require some good news to put me in spirits after the disaster of the morning:” said the governor. “And how came you not to give me warning that so large a body of Circassians were on the move?”

“I knew not of it myself till the moment I saw the troops engaged,” answered the spy.

“Well, well, I believe you: but your news now,” said the General.

“In the first place the barbarians are meditating some exploit—though I yet know not what, but will discover to-morrow—under the guidance of that old rebel Guz Beg, who has just returned from a pilgrimage to Mecca, and has lost no time in inciting his countrymen to fresh outrages against you, their rightful masters. He nearly cut my throat when he heard me trying to persuade old Mahmood, the Prince of Pchad, to send in his allegiance to the Emperor. I was obliged to hold my tongue to save my neck. The Hadji, as he is now called, touched at some place in the north of Turkey, Varna I believe, and there picked up a young Russian, as he seems, though he speaks the Circassian language, and two followers, who act as his squire and page. They at all events are Russian, for I heard them conversing together, and I have my strong suspicions that their master is an officer of the Emperor who has deserted, for I heard him speaking to one of the prisoners, whom he took to-day, as an old acquaintance, calling the man Karl.”

“It is he!” almost shouted the General. “I guessed it from the moment you spoke of him. May curses rest on the traitor’s head! One whom I had adopted as my son! But I will punish him for his vile ingratitude. That knave, who was taken prisoner, or rather deserted, was once in attendance on him, and a slave of mine. Now mark me. I will give a handsome reward to any who delivers them into my power. Are you ready to gain it?”

“I would do any thing to please you, General, much more to gain a reward,” answered the spy. “But I know not how to manage it.”

“It must be done,” said the Baron. “Entice him near the fort, when he may be taken prisoner, or watch his movements, and perchance he may be found sleeping in the neighbourhood, when I will send a strong body to capture him. But mark me, I must have him brought before me a prisoner, and my orders are not to be disobeyed. Follow what plan you will; I would rather have his head than that of a thousand Circassians.”

“Your orders shall be obeyed, General,” answered the spy. “And I will set my wits to work for the purpose.”

“Remember your reward shall be great if you succeed. You may now return, or you may be missed by the barbarians, and fail not to come to-morrow night with the report of your proceedings.”

“I will obey your orders, Baron, without fail,” replied the spy, as, bowing, he retired out of the fort, and returned to the village he had left, without the slightest suspicion that his movements had been observed.

We must now follow the steps of our hero’s faithful squire, Javis, who was keeping a strict watch on the house in which the Armenian merchant had taken up his abode, in company with an active, clever youth, whom the Hadji had sent to act as his guide. They had not long to wait before they saw the Armenian issue from the house, telling his host that he must, before night was over, pay a visit to the chief of the village, to settle about some goods he had sold him, as he might be obliged to start early on his way. To deceive his host he first took the path to the chiefs house of whom he had spoken; then, turning abruptly, he hastened in the direction of the fort of Ghelendjik. Following him at the same speed, over hill and dale, through brake and stream, Javis and his guide traced him till he arrived in the neighbourhood of the fort.

Fortunately for their design, the moon was now obscured by some dark clouds; and, leaving the lad under shelter of some rocks, the Gipsy crept cautiously forward, till he arrived close to the picquet, where he heard the password given, and the Armenian, who addressed a few words to the guard in Russian, was instantly allowed to proceed. Remaining cautiously concealed, Javis waited till he again saw the spy pass from the fort, and heard the officer on guard give him the password for the following night—“The Eagle of Russia”—when the man set off rapidly towards the interior. Dodging his steps, Javis traced him to the house he had left.

Outside the house of the chief, Javis found the Hadji and Ivan anxiously waiting his return, to whom he related what he had seen.

“Let the knave rest to-night,” said the former, “to-morrow we will give him a surprise he little dreams of. He can do us but little harm now.”

“I have thought of a plan,” said Javis, “by which you can communicate with Lieutenant Stanisloff, without danger either to him or to yourself. I heard the password given for to-morrow night, and I propose to personate the treacherous Armenian, and gain admittance to the fort, where I will trust to my own wits to find out your friend, and give him your message, and to escape without seeing the governor, who would probably discover me. What say you, Sir, to my plan? Shall I attempt it?”

“Though I long to see my friend, I would not that you should run so great a risk; for were you discovered, your death would be certain,” said Ivan.

“O fear not for me, Sir,” replied Javis, “my life is of but little value to any one, and the danger is not so great as it appears; for those thick-headed Russians are not likely to distinguish me at night from the Armenian. I shall also, I have no doubt, be able to gain some further information from the man to-morrow.”

The next morning the Armenian appeared with his packs on his horses’ backs, as if prepared for a journey. He smilingly saluted the chiefs who were assembled in front of the guest-house; but alarm took the place of his smiles, when he observed the stern looks which met him on every side; and more so when he found himself surrounded by a number of their armed followers.

“Whither go you so fast, Armenian?” said the Hadji, sternly. “Are you hastening to visit your friends the Urus? What, do you turn pale? Drag the treacherous spy from his horse,” he added, turning to his attendants, “and bring him along. We will judge his case; and if he prove guilty, he knows the punishment of spies.”

The unfortunate pedlar trembled violently as he was dragged along to an open glade surrounded by trees, at a short distance from the village. Here the chiefs soon assembled, as well as several rich Tocavs or yeomen, and other influential men in the neighbourhood, who were summoned to give the criminal the fairest trial.

The judges seated themselves, with due formality and gravity, in a semi-circle, on a grassy bank, when the terror-stricken Armenian was brought before them. The witnesses against him, Javis and his guide, were also summoned into their presence. Javis first gave his evidence, which Ivan interpreted, as also did his guide.

“Said you not, Armenian, that you were a man of peace, and a friend to the Attèghèi?” demanded the chief of the village, who acted as president. “See that you have not spoken lies, and proved that you are a friend of our enemies. Answer this one question: where went you last night?”

“Where went I?” tremblingly echoed the Armenian. “I went forth from the house of my good konag, to cool my brow after the heat of the day. Surely I went no where beyond the hamlet.”

“Oh thou son of the evil one! Think you to elude our vigilance? Answer truly, or you die on the spot. Why went you to the camp of our enemies?”

“Oh! spare my life, noble chiefs!” cried the Armenian, falling on his knees. “I am but a poor trader, and I went but to sell my goods. Oh slay me not, valiant nobles!”

“Do you not know that it is prohibited to have any dealings with the enemy?” said the president. “And of what use are such goods as you carry to the Urus? But you are full of lies. You went without your goods, secretly, and by night. You know the enemy’s password. You were seen to enter their fort, and shortly after to return. Your own words condemn you. What say you, Uzdens?” turning to the other judges, “has the Armenian proved himself to be innocent, or is he guilty?”

The chiefs, all standing up, pronounced the solemn words of the wretch’s doom—

“He is guilty: let him die the death of a spy.”

The miserable being had not a word to plead in his own defence; but loudly crying for mercy, he lifted up his hands in an imploring attitude; for well he knew the dreadful fate prepared for him. The stern warriors relaxed not their features as they motioned to the attendants to lead him away. His crime was of the greatest magnitude, and no mercy could be granted him; not a voice spoke in his favour; not an eye turned with pity towards him.

At some distance from the hamlet was a lofty and perpendicular cliff, at whose base, over a rough rocky bed, roared a foaming and rapid torrent. The wretched Armenian, without any further delay, was dragged up a steep pathway to the summit of the cliff, where, by order of the Hadji, he was stripped of his high Astracan fur cap, his dark robe, and the appurtenances of his trade, and then led, shrieking, forward, to the edge of the precipice. As he thus saw his dreadful fate approaching, he screamed loudly for mercy and pardon; but his cries fell on the ears of those whom a fierce exterminating war had rendered deaf to pity for their cruel foes.

As he stood, shivering with terror, on the very edge of the frightful chasm, in a last fit of desperation, he seized hold of those who stood near, endeavouring to drag them down with him; but his hands were torn from their hold; and two powerful slaves, appointed as his executioners, lifting him from the ground, hurled him, with tremendous exertion, far over the edge of the cliff. A last shriek of despairing agony alone escaped him, as he fell headlong into the dark abyss, grasping at the empty air, and seeking to find some hold to prolong life, even for a few moments. So deep was the chasm, that not a sound was heard, as he struck the shallow and rocky bed of the stream; and its waters whirled the mangled frame far out of sight.

“Thus, let all spies and traitors die!” exclaimed the multitude, as they retired from the scene of execution.

Volume Two—Chapter Fourteen.

Reports were abroad in the neighbourhood of Ghelendjik, that the Russians intended to make some movement from their fortifications; so that, in the hopes of finding occupation for their swords, the Hadji and Achmet Beg determined to remain on the spot to assist their friends; and Ivan gladly availed himself of the opportunity of endeavouring to communicate with Thaddeus. Arslan Gherrei was also persuaded by the Hadji to remain, to lend his powerful aid in repelling their foes, and to give his daughter Ina a longer period to recover from her fatigue.

Ivan anxiously looked forward to the evening, when Javis was to make his attempt to enter the fort, and he determined to accompany him near the walls, in the hope of meeting Thaddeus.

Every body was eager for information respecting the movements of the Russians, some spending the day in anxiously watching the fort, while others were occupied in deep deliberation as to their future proceedings. The Dehli Khans, or young men, employed themselves in those warlike exercises which inure their bodies to fatigue, and make them hardy warriors.

By the Hadji’s direction, the dress of the Armenian was given up to Javis. When the evening drew on, and he appeared habited in it, the bystanders started with amazement, thinking that the pedlar had arisen from the dead, so completely had he disguised himself. As soon as it was dark, he set forward, led by his former guide, and accompanied by Ivan, whose anxiety for the safety of his follower, and desire to see his friend, made him wish to remain as near as possible until the adventure should be terminated.

As Javis arrived at the outer picquet, he gave the right answer to the sentry’s challenge, and was allowed to pass on, while Ivan remained concealed among the rocks.

“Who goes there?” cried the sentinel, at the gates of the fort.

“A friend to Russia,” he answered. “The word, ‘The Eagle of Russia.’”

The drawbridge was lowered. The pretended Armenian entered the fort. The officer of the guard, unsuspicious of any deceit, ordered a soldier to conduct the spy to the quarters of the governor.

As the adventurer and his guard got beyond hearing of the people at the gates—

“My friend,” said the former, addressing the soldier in Russian, and slipping some coin into his hand, “I know my way to the governor’s quarters well enough by this time; here, take this to carouse with. You have a hard life of it here, I suspect. Ah! you thought I could not speak in your own language. Why, man, I come from your part of the country, and would ask a favour of you. I am in no hurry to see the governor, so we will not hasten, as I am before the time appointed, and he loves not irregularity. Now say, how do you like the life you lead here?”

“Why, I do not like it at all,” answered the man; “for we have nothing but hard blows, and get no rest from those infernal mountaineers, as we cannot tell from one moment to another when they may be upon us. If we wander but a few yards beyond the fort, some of our men are certain to be picked off by their rifles. Then there is no booty to be gained, nor amusement of any sort.”

“You do not draw a very pleasant picture of your life here, my friend,” said Javis, “and I suppose that is the reason why so many of your men desert to the enemy, where they are sure to be well treated, and have little work to do. Sometimes, too, they marry the beautiful women of the country; and, as there are plenty of warriors in the land, they are not obliged to fight against their countrymen. For my part, I wonder the General can keep any of his soldiers around him; but I would not breathe such an idea in the camp. Now, my friend, do you know Lieutenant Stanisloff of the 76th regiment?”

“Do I know Lieutenant Stanisloff? Yes, surely,” answered the soldier, “I am his servant, and a kind master he is to me. This night it is his turn for picquet duty, so that he will be in his quarters, if he has not yet started.”

“Will you then, my friend, hasten and call him hither,” said Javis, as they arrived near a row of wretched huts appropriated to the junior officers. “Whisper to him that some one has something of importance to communicate. Remember to tell no one about the happy lives the deserters lead among the Circassians. It might be said that I was persuading you to go over to them, and that would not be acting the part of a friend to Russia.”

Javis retired below the eaves of a storehouse, where, in the dark shade, he could remain free from observation, while in other parts of the fort the scene was one of bustle and animation. Groups of soldiers were seated round their fires, cooking their suppers; others gambling on a drum head for their scanty allowance of pay. Numbers surrounded the suttlers’ booths and huts where spirits were sold, quaffing, as their only resource from misery, huge bickers of quass and glasses of vodka. Here parties were marching and countermarching to relieve guard, their firm regular tread heard above the din and clatter of the camp.

In a few minutes Thaddeus appeared, wrapped in his cloak, prepared for his night guard. On seeing Javis he seemed annoyed, as with a tone of contempt he addressed him.

“What want you with me, Armenian? If you have any of your worthy communications to make, I should have thought that the governor was the fittest person to whom a spy should make his report.”

“Hist, Sir,” said Javis; “draw nearer—you mistake me. I bring a message from one who loves you, and who will not be happy till he has seen you again. Do you not remember the night you passed in the Gipsy’s camp near Tver? There you last saw me.”

“Do my senses deceive me?” exclaimed Thaddeus; “are you not the Armenian spy who has for so long brought us information from the enemy?”

“Outwardly you see that I am; but I would not that my soul should be where his now is. But to my message. Your friend, Ivan Galetzoff, is now waiting for you close to the fort. He has much to say to you. Shall I tell him that you will come; you can have no difficulty, as I can assure you that no attack will be made on the fort to-night.”

Thaddeus scarcely hesitated a moment before he answered, “Yes, yes, say that I will go, at all hazards, to see him. Where shall I find him?”

“Do you remember a peculiar rock jutting out over the sands, its top overhung by a large tree? Close to that rock I will wait for you, and conduct you to him.”

“Go then, my friend; I will trust to you. But how can you leave the fort? Are you not afraid the governor will discover you?” said Thaddeus.

“I have no fear, and may easily deceive him.”

“Fortune favour your hazardous adventure, my friend! I must hasten to my post,” said Thaddeus.

Directing his servant to accompany the pretended Armenian to the Baron’s quarters, he hurried off, and Javis followed the soldier’s steps.

It was a trying moment for Javis when he entered the Baron’s presence; but his eye quailed not before his fierce imperious glance, as, imitating the Armenian’s manner, he bowed before him.

“You have returned in good time, my faithful messenger,” said the Baron. “Have the barbarians yet formed their plans to attack the fort?”

“They have given up all hopes of doing so with success, noble General,” replied Javis undauntedly, “and have begun to disperse to their several homes.”

“That is well,” replied the General. “And tell me, what plan have you formed to entrap the young renegade who bears my name? I must have him in my power by to-morrow night, at furthest.”

“I have thought of several plans, General, which I think may succeed; but I have a difficult game to play, as I fear that I am already suspected by the barbarians, and I should not have ventured to return to-night but that you seemed to wish it. I would not be away longer than possible, so by your leave, General, I will return at once.”

“You may go, man,” said the Baron: “and let me hear from you to-morrow.”

“I will obey your orders without fail,” answered Javis, bowing as he hastened from the hut, at the door of which he found his friend the soldier waiting to conduct him to the gates.

“If a Russian escapes from the fort to the Circassians, you are certain that he is well treated by them?” asked the man.

“O yes, my friend, they receive him with open arms,” answered Javis. “But you must not now speak to me. We may meet again soon:—farewell!”

The adventurer was allowed to go through the gates without question, and passing the picquets, he hastened to the spot he had indicated to Thaddeus, where, sheltered beneath an overhanging rock, he waited his coming for some time, till he began to fear that something might have occurred to prevent his leaving his post. At length his quick ear caught the sound of footsteps, and to his summons in a low voice, Thaddeus himself answered.

Javis then led the way up a small ravine overhung by trees, under the dark shade of which he had left his master. Ivan was anxiously waiting the coming of his friend, and as he caught sight of him he dashed forward, and the two friends were in each others arms.

“You knew not,” said Ivan, “that I was a Circassian; but I am prouder to bear that name than to be the highest rank the Emperor of Russia can bestow. But, Thaddeus, my tried, my earliest friend, it takes away from the happiness I feel at meeting you again, to see you in the garb of the enemies of my country, armed against her liberty and her rights.”

“Oh do not taunt me thus, my friend,” replied Thaddeus, “for, believe me, I do not now willingly follow the standard of your enemies. But how could I do otherwise? My father remains an hostage in their hands, and should I desert from their ranks, they would visit their vengeance upon him.”

“But why draw your sword at all, when against the cause of liberty?” exclaimed Ivan. “Surely your father himself would rather see you follow any other pursuit.”

“Can you speak thus, Ivan, who are a soldier as well as I am? Would you persuade me to lead a life of indolent peace?”

“Then, my dear Thaddeus, quit that hated standard, under which you now serve, and you will be welcomed, by the noble warriors of this country, with open arms,” exclaimed Ivan. “They love the Poles, for they have heard of the wrongs of Poland, and feel for her children the affection of brothers.”

“Ivan, my friend, you wring my heart,” cried Thaddeus passionately. “I feel the justice of your cause; but I have become a soldier of the Emperor. And would you have me, like a traitor, desert my colours? I was wrong to enter his service; but I sought for military glory, regardless of the cause for which I fought. Doubly did I feel how wrong I had been, when yesterday I saw the desperate bravery of your countrymen driving thrice the numbers of the slavish soldiery of Russia before them. To you, Ivan, I owe my life; for had not your sword been raised to shield my head, I should at once have finished my career; and it was at that moment only I first recognised you. Yet do not think me ungrateful if I still remain on the side of your enemies.”

“Speak not of gratitude, Thaddeus,” answered Ivan; “but let me draw you from the ranks of my foes, and from certain destruction.”

“No, Ivan; deeply as I mourn the fate which divides us, I cannot change it while the Emperor claims the services I once tendered to him. That I love you, my coming here stealthily and alone shews; for I have already been guilty of deserting my post; but I did so in the assurance that no surprise would be attempted on the fort, and that I risked not the lives of my companions in arms. That a love of quiet does not prompt my refusal to join you, will be evident from the life we all lead in the fort; and I in particular am subject to every annoyance which the hatred and tyranny of Baron Galetzoff can inflict. But I refuse, Ivan, because, as a soldier, my duty will not allow me to quit my standard, till I am absolved from my oath of allegiance; and also because I would not expose my father to persecution on my account.”

“Thaddeus, my friend, you have convinced me against my wish,” exclaimed Ivan. “I see your just and disinterested reasons, and have but to mourn the hard fate which thus places us on opposing sides. Still let us be joined in heart, and endeavour to mitigate the horrors of this war.”

“That I will do as far as lies in my power,” said Thaddeus. “But now, my friend, I must hasten back to my post, or I may be missed. I have many enemies who would make the utmost of any departure from duty. The Count Erintoff, who has lately arrived here, and who knows I am your friend, is my colonel, and would gladly find an excuse for ruining me.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Ivan, “I long to meet that man in the field, to punish him for his atrocities.”

“He well deserves punishment; but I must not speak of him; and now, farewell. I know not when we may meet again; but believe me, my friendship will ever remain unchanged.”

Saying which, Thaddeus warmly clasped his friend’s hand, and hastened back to resume the post he had quitted.

Javis and the guide, who had retired to a short distance during the conference, now approached; and on their way back to the village, Javis related to his master his adventures in the fort. As Ivan entered the guest-house, the Hadji started up from his couch, eager to hear an account of his adventures, laughing heartily at the success of Javis’s disguise, and of the defeat of the plan to entrap him.

“So the General of the Urus thinks we are prepared to attack him, does he?” he exclaimed. “Bismillah! we will make his fears come true. I shall not sleep all night for thinking of some plan to surprise him.”

Volume Two—Chapter Fifteen.

How often in our lives have we been obliged to quit some delightful abode, or some enchanting scene of pleasure, to visit places and persons we dislike, or to mix in the coarse bustle of the vulgar world! and thus must we once again lead our readers from the beautiful and romantic scenery of Circassia, and from its gallant inhabitants, to the detested castle of Ghelendjik, and into the presence of its fierce governor.

The Baron Galetzoff had just returned from riding round the fortifications, and was about to throw himself on his couch for the night, when his servant entered the room to announce Count Erintoff. Throwing his cloak around him, he angrily arose to receive his guest.

“You come at an unseasonable hour, Count,” he said, with a harsh tone. “Am I to have no rest either from friends or foes? What brings you here?”

“I come with news which may interest you; but for your private ear, General,” returned the Count, looking at the servant who remained.

“Why stay you here? Begone, sirrah,” exclaimed the Baron to the man, who hastily disappeared. “Now, Count, your news,” he continued, turning to his guest, and relaxing his features a little. “It is late, and I would try to seek some rest; so pray no delay.”

“My news is not of much general importance,” returned the Count; “but to you, Baron, it may afford some satisfaction. At length I have found that immaculate officer, Lieutenant Stanisloff, tripping, if indeed I do not succeed in proving him a traitor. As he was to mount one of the outer guards to-night, it occurred to me that he might perhaps communicate with that arch-traitor, your once adopted son, whom, as I told you, I recognised among the horde of the mountain barbarians we were engaged with yesterday. I, therefore, having gone my rounds, waited for some time, and returned to his post; but when summoned, he did not answer: he was nowhere to be found. I, therefore, left my orderly to watch him, enjoining secrecy, and called others to witness that he was absent from his post, in the face of the enemy. My orderly has just come in to say, that after a long absence, he returned from the direction of the mountains. He is, therefore, entirely in your power; but I would not seize him without first consulting your wishes.”

“Then haste, seize him, and bring him here at once,” said the Baron. “To-morrow he shall die.”

The Count hurried off to obey, and during his absence, which lasted some time, the Baron strode up and down the room in an angry mood.

At length the Count returned with Thaddeus Stanisloff, his prisoner, strongly guarded.

“So, Lieutenant Stanisloff,” said the Baron, glaring fiercely at him, “you have been absent from your post when before the enemy. You have held conversation with an arch-traitor to the Emperor, and you are suspected of an intention to desert your colours.”

“Whoever accuses me,” exclaimed Thaddeus, returning the Baron’s look firmly, “speaks a foul and slanderous falsehood, if he says that I am, or ever have been wanting, in my allegiance to the Emperor.”

“I accuse you,” cried the Count stepping forward. “I myself discovered that you were absent from your post.”

“I grant it,” replied Thaddeus firmly; “and I await my punishment; but, beyond that, whoever was your informer is a vile slanderer.”

“Know you not that even for what you acknowledge to have done, your punishment is death?” said the Baron. “Confess therefore where you went, or expect no mercy.”

“I expect no mercy at your hands,” answered Thaddeus. “If I deserve death, I am prepared to meet it.”

“Hear me, obstinate youth,” cried the Baron, “you have held some communication with my once reputed son. You may do so again, but in the company of some trusty guards; and if I can see him safe within the walls of this fort, not only shall you go free, and your crime be overlooked, but your rise shall be rapid in the army, and honours and distinctions shall await you.”

At these words the prisoner seemed to gasp for breath. “Baron Galetzoff, I am in your power,” he exclaimed, “or you should pay dear for such an insult as you have now offered me. Think you that a son of my unhappy and enslaved country can be sunk so low as to hear calmly such vile propositions? No! you have torn us from our homes, you have taken from us our lands, you have ravaged our fields, you have overthrown our kingdom, and ruined our once proud families; but you cannot take from us our honour. I have ever been faithful to your Emperor, our conqueror. I defy your malice. I will speak no more.”

The Baron’s own stern eye sunk before the noble indignation of the prisoner, as standing before him without trembling, he folded his arms on his breast. “Madman,” cried the Baron furiously, “you bring your doom on your own head. No power in heaven or earth shall save you.”

Thaddeus spoke not, but looking towards heaven seemed to implore its aid.

“Colonel Erintoff,” continued the governor, “I commit this prisoner to your charge, and you will take measures that he does not escape.”

“I will strictly obey your orders, General,” said the Count with a significant and sinister look.

Closely guarded, Thaddeus was led out and placed in a miserable hut, built to serve the purpose of a prison for the fort.

He passed a wretched night, heavily ironed. Indignation at the Baron’s base propositions at first smothered all thoughts of his own impending fate. He rejoiced that Ivan had escaped; but he longed to warn him of the danger he ran; and the impossibility of doing so added to the poignancy of his feelings. By degrees the conviction of his own miserable destiny crept on him.

“How dark! How wretched is all around me,” he cried in the agony of his spirit. “Do thus end all my hopes of military glory? Must I die with my once proud name blackened and disgraced; my character as an officer maligned? My father’s last few and sad days hastened by the foul history of his son’s disgrace and untimely death? I cannot bear such thoughts! Oh that Ivan’s unkind sword had rather cut me down on the field of battle, than saved me for this end! Little does he think that my anxiety to see him has been the cause of this misery. No! there is no hope, no glimpse of light left me in the world. Let me prepare then to meet my inevitable fate like a man, and then my comrades in arms may at least say, that I died with courage and firmness. And, oh heaven! give me strength to bear my lot.”

He prayed, and ere the morning broke he slept calmly, even on the hard ground, in sweet forgetfulness of his doom.

He was awakened by the entrance of a soldier with an open letter, sent by his brutal gaoler, in hopes of adding to his misery. It was from his father’s kind friend announcing the death of his parent, his last words being blessings on his son.

“Heaven be praised,” he cried, falling on his knees, “that misery has been spared me. The rest will be easy to bear.” And with a serene countenance he prepared to meet whatever might follow.

Count Erintoff soon after made his appearance; he was received by Thaddeus with the most haughty coldness. “I come to learn,” said the Count, “whether you have thought better of the Governor’s propositions, and are prepared to accede to them, or meet the fate you deserve.”

“Were I tied to the stake, I would spurn the vile offer, as I do now,” replied the prisoner. “I have no more to say.”

“If such is your answer, expect no mercy,” replied the Count fiercely, and he quitted the prison, greatly to the occupant’s relief.

Thaddeus was left for some hours to his meditations, when, his prison doors opening, a file of soldiers appeared to conduct him before the Court Martial assembled to try him.

“I fear that it will go hard with you, Stanisloff,” said the officer in charge of the men, casting a look of pity on the prisoner. “You must be prepared for the worst.”

“Fear not for me, my friend,” answered Thaddeus; “but I trust that neither you nor my brother officers will judge me harshly, though I am fully convinced of the result of my trial.”

“Think not that your character will suffer,” answered the other. “We all feel a warm interest in your fate.”

“That is already settled,” said the prisoner. “I am ready to accompany you.”

When placed before the principal officers of the garrison, his trial proceeded as was to be expected, when the Governor had determined on his condemnation. He was clearly convicted of having left the post he had been placed to guard, by his own colonel as witness; but when there was some demur as to his having communicated with the enemy, two servants of Count Erintoff’s stepped forward, and swore positively to having seen him speaking to one of the chiefs of the Circassians, and having overheard him promise to give them timely notice of any movement among the Russians.

Though great doubt was thrown on the credibility of the men, who were known to be bad characters, yet as their own Colonel swore to their honesty, they were received as witnesses. Notwithstanding the preponderance of the influence against him there was a strong feeling in favour of the prisoner, both in the court and throughout the garrison. So great indeed had the ferment become, when it was reported that he was condemned to die, (most people being convinced that his sentence was unjust), that the Count expressed his fears to the Governor that a general outbreak would be the consequence, if measures were carried to extremities with the prisoner.

“We shall see,” cried the Baron, furiously, “if my authority is not of more avail; however, I will disappoint their hopes, if they think to save the prisoner.”

After sentence of death had been passed on Thaddeus, he was led back to prison, there to await his execution, while the Governor summoned the Count to his private councils.

A fort had been lately erected between Anapa and Ghelendjik, during a time when the greater part of the patriot forces were engaged in another part of the country, some occupied in attending a religious festival, and others in agricultural pursuits, so that the few who remained to guard the coast, were unable to defeat the object of the Russians when first landing; and in a day or so, by the time others arrived to their assistance, the entrenchments had become too strong to attack. The garrison left in it had lately been much reduced by disease, and had also lost many men in a party foraging for wood and water, so that the Baron determined on sending reinforcements thither, and also to despatch the Count there with the culprit, under the plea of inspecting the fortifications.

“He is there, a stranger,” he added, with a hideous smile. “And while those here are left in doubt of his fate, you Count, can take the order for his execution.”

“I shall obey your orders, General, and hope to return in a few days, with an account of their having been fulfilled,” replied the Count, as he left the quarters of the Governor, to make arrangements for his voyage.

Thaddeus was fully prepared for his coming fate, expecting every moment to be dragged forth to execution; and was much astonished, therefore, to find himself at the close of the day, placed on board a brig of war, without any notice having been given him of his destination. For a moment, as he was being conducted down to the shore, his faithful servant found an opportunity of approaching him, for the purpose of uttering his farewell.

“Do not be down-hearted, Sir,” he whispered. “You may be saved ere you expect it. I have discovered where you are going, and I will aid you, or die for it.”

Thaddeus was then hurried on board with four companies of soldiers, under the orders of the Count, when the brig instantly made sail to the northward; but as the winds were light, she made no progress during the night. As she was standing close in shore the next morning, several shot from rifles pierced her sails, and a party of horsemen were seen galloping along the edge of the cliffs. The brig’s guns were instantly discharged, but the balls struck the hard rocks alone, the deep sound echoing along the shore. The horsemen had disappeared; but several other shot from various directions, hit the vessel; and the commander seeing how useless it would be to contend with his scattered and concealed foes, giving a parting salute, stood further out to sea.

Thaddeus all the time was kept below, in a state of the greatest suspense; no one being allowed to hold any communication with him. Very light and variable winds detained them on their voyage; so that it was not till the end of the day, that they reached their destination, though the distance was but short.

The fort, to which Thaddeus was conveyed, was built further from the sea, than that of Ghelendjik, nor could it be so well protected by the guns of a fleet, as that fortress; but, from the nature of its position, it was almost equally strong. There was, however, a securely fortified way from it to the sea, with which a communication could always be kept up, without fear of interruption from the Circassians.

The scenery round it was barren and savage; huge dark rocks rising on all sides from the sandy shore, broken into fantastic forms, appearing like castles towering above the plain. The fortress was built of dark stones quarried, from the neighbouring rocks, on a ledge rising gradually from the shore, and running far inland. It stood on the eastern, or furthest inland point of this ledge; a steep and almost perpendicular cliff protecting it on one side, while in front, there being a smooth green surface, and gradual descent on the plain, its defences depended on its guns, being so placed as to sweep the ground with showers of grape.

A sandy and barren ground extended for some way in front, and on one side, a succession of low rugged rocks formed a considerable protection. The site had been chosen on account of the shelter afforded to the ships of war by a bay in the neighbourhood.

On reaching the shore, the Count ordered Thaddeus to be conducted to a strong prison in the fort; while he himself went round to inspect the fortifications. The reinforcement he had brought with him was gladly welcomed by the commanding officer, who complained much of the small garrison, which was left to protect the fort.

The Count then informed him, that the prisoner he had brought with him was to be shot the next morning at day-break, by command of the Governor of Ghelendjik; producing the Baron’s written order, desiring him to acquaint Lieutenant Stanisloff of the fate which awaited him.

The Governor looked with pity on Thaddeus, as he gave the Count’s message; but he himself received it unmoved, and thus addressed the officer:

“I ask you to defend my fame whenever you hear my name blackened; say then, that I died true to my colours, and to my oath. That is my only request.”

“I will do my utmost to defend your character,” said the officer.

“Farewell!” exclaimed Thaddeus, “till to-morrow’s dawn. Delay the execution, if possible, till the sun rises. I would look once more on that glorious luminary: his beams will aid my strength.”

“It shall be as you wish, if I can possibly so arrange it,” returned the officer, as he hastened from the prison, and left Thaddeus again to meditate in solitude on his impending fate.

The night had at first been serene and beautiful, but towards morning, sudden gusts of wind howled through the rocks and buildings of the fort. The thunder broke in loud peals over head, and flashes of lightning illuminated the gloom of his small and dark prison, through the bars of the only aperture to give light and air. The tumult of the tempest awoke Thaddeus from a slumber into which he had fallen. It seemed to him to rage with greater fury than at first, as he sat up, watching each bright flash. The wind had increased to a hurricane.

The tempest, however, quickly passed over, and all was again silent, except the low sullen roar of the ocean, as its waves dashed on the rocky and caverned shore, or the distant murmur of the passing blast among the trees of the neighbouring mountain.

The dawn was about to break. Thaddeus, whose spirits were exhausted by his mental sufferings, had thrown himself on the rough log, which formed the only seat and couch of his prison, and was falling into a quiet slumber, when he was startled by a fearful shriek, piercing to the inmost recesses of the fort. Again and again it arose from all sides, far louder than the howling of the late tempest, drowning the shouts of the soldiers, as they rushed to their posts at the walls. Soon the roar of artillery, and the rattle of musketry seemed endeavouring to overpower the sound of that war-cry; but it triumphed over all, and sounded nearer and nearer. Thaddeus felt that he could not be mistaken; he had heard that tremendous shout but a few days before, when attacked by the mountain cavalry.

The cannon had ceased its roar, when next arose the shouts of the Russian soldiery; succeeded by thrilling cries for mercy and agonised groans of despair, answered by the loud, overwhelming huzzas of “Allah! Allah!” from all sides. A momentary silence ensued; and then a tramping of feet, as of men engaged in desperate strife. Even he, from whom the fear of death had passed away, felt his heart beat quick, and his breath almost stopped. The cries passed close to him; the bullets rattled against his prison walls; and the flashes of the guns lighted up the gloom of the chamber. The strange unearthly noises grew more confused; the reports of the firing ceased, except a few straggling shots, and the shouts of the combatants passed on.

Knowing little of the localities of the fort, Thaddeus could not discover in what direction the combatants had gone, when he again heard the sound of the rapid steps of a body of men passing close to his prison. Presently, loud and quick reports of musketry were heard, and he concluded that a body of Russians, cut off from their retreat to the shore, had thrown themselves into some strong building, and were making a last desperate defence. They seemed to be successful, as the firing increased, when an awful pause ensued, a tremendous deafening explosion took place, as if an earthquake had rent the earth; the prison walls were shaken to their foundation; the door flew open, and the roof fell in, overwhelming the prisoner in its ruins.

Volume Two—Chapter Sixteen.

We must now relate several circumstances, which had occurred while Thaddeus was being transported from Ghelendjik to the fort in which we left him. The words addressed to his servant by Javis, when he visited the fort in disguise, had sunk deep into the man’s mind. His imagination had been excited by the picture placed before him of rural happiness, contrasted so greatly with the wretched life he led in the camp. Like his master, he too was a Pole; though not like him, impeded by any scruples from deserting. Having heard that his former friend was among the Circassians, he determined to fly to him for protection, and to urge him to find some means of rescuing the prisoner; for it was well-known in the fort whither Thaddeus was to be conveyed.

That night, being on the outer guard, he threw aside his musket and cloak, and hastily sought his way to the mountains, among which he was soon seized by some of the many watchful guards placed there.

The Hadji was seated in the guest-house with Ivan, earnestly discussing various plans for driving their foes from their shores, when their host arrived with a prisoner. No sooner did the captive soldier hear Ivan speak to him, than he shouted with joy, and ran to throw himself at his feet.

“Oh, Sir,” he cried, “it was to find you that I escaped from the fortress. My poor master, Lieutenant Stanisloff, has been seized, by the Governor’s orders, because it is said he went out to meet you, and he is now going to be shot; but every body loved him so much in the camp, that the Governor is afraid to have him executed there, lest there should be a mutiny, for which many are fully ready; and he has consequently sent him to a fort a short distance to the north. It is said not to be a very strong place, so you may probably rescue him, if you take it in time. I thought this would be the only chance of saving my poor master’s life; and being very wretched at the fort myself, I ran off to tell you all about it.”

“My friend, I am deeply indebted to you,” answered Ivan; and he then explained the man’s story to the assembled chiefs.