The Most Interesting Stories of All Nations
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Julian Hawthorne >> The Most Interesting Stories of All Nations
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Meanwhile they brought the young girl to the Decurio's house, and
as each man considered that he had an equal right to the prize,
they kept a vigilant eye upon her, and none dared offend her so
much as by a look.
When the Decurio arrived, they all crowded into the house with him,
filling the rooms, as well as the entrance and porch.
Having laid out the spoil before them on the ground, the leader
proceeded to divide it into equal shares, retaining for himself a
portion of ten men, after which most of the band dispersed to their
homes; but a good many remained, greedily eyeing their still
unappropriated victim, who lay pale and motionless as the dead on
the couch of lime-boughs where they had laid her.
"You are waiting, I suppose, to cast lots for the girl?" said Numa
dryly.
"Certainly," replied Lupey, with an insolent leer; "and his she
will be who casts highest. If two, or ten, or twenty of us should
cast the same, we have an equal right to her."
"I tell you only one can have her," interrupted Numa sternly.
"Then those who win must cast again among each other."
"Casting the die will not do; we may throw all day long, and two
may remain at the end."
"Well, let us play cards for her."
"I cannot allow that, the more cunning will deceive the simpler."
"Well, write our names upon bricks, and throw them all into a
barrel; and whichever name you draw will take away the girl."
"I can say what name I please, for none of you can read."
The Wallachian shook his head impatiently.
"Well, propose something yourself, Decurio."
"I will. Let us try which of us can give the best proof of courage
and daring; and whoever can do that, shall have the girl, for he
best deserves her."
"Well said!" cried the men unanimously. "Let us each relate what
we have done, and then you can judge which among us is the
boldest."
"I killed the first Bardy in the court in sight of his family."
"I broke in the door, when that terrible man was dashing down the
iron on our heads."
"But it was I who pierced his heart."
"I mounted the stairs first."
"I fought nearly half an hour with the noble in the cloth of gold."
And thus they continued. Each man, according to his own account,
was the first and the bravest--each had performed miracles of
valor.
"You have all behaved with great daring, but it is impossible now
to prove what has happened. The proof must be given here, by all
of us together, before my eyes, indisputably."
"Well, tell us how," said Lupey impatiently, always fearing that
the Decurio was going to deceive them.
"Look here," said Numa, drawing a small cask from beneath the bed--
and in doing so he observed that the young girl half opened her
eyes, as she glanced at him, and then closed them. She was awake,
and had heard all.
As he stooped down, Numa whispered gently in her ear: "Fear
nothing," and then drew the cask into the middle of the room.
The Wallachians stared with impatient curiosity as he knocked out
the bottom of the cask with a hatchet.
"This cask contains gunpowder," continued Decurio. "We will light
a match and place it in the middle of the cask, and whoever remains
longest in the room is undoubtedly the most courageous; for there
is enough here to blow up not only this house, but the whole of the
neighboring village."
At this proposition several of the men began to murmur.
"If any are afraid they are not obliged to remain," said the
Decurio dryly.
"I agree," said Lupey doggedly. "I will remain here; and perhaps,
after all, it is poppy-seeds you have got there--it looks very much
like them."
The Decurio stooped down, and taking a small quantity between his
fingers, threw it into the Wallachian's pipe, which immediately
exploded, causing him to stagger backwards, and the next instant he
stood with a blackened visage, sans beard and moustache, amidst the
jeers and laughter of his comrades.
This only exasperated him the more.
"I will stay for all that!" he exclaimed; and lifting up the pipe
which he had dropped, he walked over and lit it at the burning
match which the Decurio was placing in the cask.
Upon this, two-thirds of the men left the room.
The rest assembled around the cask with much noise and bravado,
swearing by heaven and earth that they would stay until the match
burned out; but the more they swore, the more they looked at the
burning match, the flame of which was slowly approaching the
gunpowder.
For some minutes their courage remained unshaken, but after that
they ceased to boast, and began to look at each other in silent
consternation, while their faces grew paler every instant. At last
one or two rose and stood aloof; the others followed their example,
and some grinding their teeth with rage, others chattering with
terror, they all began to leave the room.
Only two remained beside the cask; Numa, who stood with his arms
folded leaning against the foot of the bed; and Lupey, who was
sitting on the iron of the cask with his back turned to the danger,
and smoking furiously.
As soon as they were alone, the latter glanced behind him and saw
the flame was within an inch of the powder.
"I'll tell you what, Decurio," he said, springing up, "we are only
two left, don't let us make food of each other; let us come to an
understanding on this matter."
"If you are tired of waiting, I can press the match lower."
"This is no jest, Numa; you are risking your own life. How can you
wish to send us both to hell for the sake of a pale girl? But I'll
tell you what--I'll give her up to you if you will only promise
that she shall be mine when you are tired of her."
"Remain here and win her--if you dare."
"To what purpose?" said the Wallachian, in a whining voice, and in
his impatience he began to tear his clothes and stamp with his
feet, like a petted child.
"What I have said stands good," said the Decurio; "whoever remains
longest has the sole right to the lady."
"Well, I will stay, of course; but what do I gain by it? I know
you will stay, too, and then the devil will have us both; and I
speak not only for myself when I say I do not wish that."
"If you do not wish it, you had better be gone."
"Well, I don't care--if you will give me a golden mark."
"Not the half; stay if you like it."
"Decurio, this is madness! The flame will reach the powder
immediately."
"I see it."
"Well, say a dollar."
"Not a whit."
"May the seventy-seven limited thunder-bolt strike you on St.
Michael's Day!" roared the Wallachian fiercely, as he rushed to the
door; but after he had gone out, he once more thrust his head in
and cried: "Will you give even a form? I am not gone yet."
"Nor have I removed the match; you may come back." The Wallachian
slammed the door, and ran for his life, till exhausted and
breathless he sank under a tree, where he lay with his tunic over
his head, and his ears covered with his hands, only now and then
raising his head nervously, to listen for the awful explosion which
was to blow up the world.
Meanwhile Numa coolly removed the match, which was entirely burnt
down; and throwing it into the grate, he stepped over to the bed
and whispered into the young girl's ear: "You are free!"
Trembling, she raised herself in the bed and taking the Decurio's
large, sinewy hands within her own, she murmured: "Be merciful! O
hear my prayer, and kill me!"
The Decurio stroked the fair hair of the lovely suppliant. "Poor
child!" he replied gently; "you have nothing to fear; nobody will
hurt you now."
"You have saved me from these fearful people--now save me from
yourself!"
"You have nothing to fear from me," replied the Dacian, proudly; "I
fight for liberty alone, and you may rest as securely within my
threshold as on the steps of the altar. When I am absent you need
have no anxiety, for these walls are impregnable, and if anyone
should dare offend you by the slightest look, that moment shall be
the last of his mortal career. And when I am at home you have
nothing to fear, for woman's image never dwelt within my heart.
Accept my poor couch, and may your rest be sweet!--Imre Bardy slept
on it last night."
"Imre!" exclaimed the starting girl. "You have seen him, then?--
oh! where is he!"
The Decurio hesitated. "He should not have delayed so long," he
murmured, pressing his hand against his brow; "all would have been
otherwise."
"Oh! let me go to him; if you know where he is."
"I do not know, but I am certain he will come here if he is alive--
indeed he must come."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because he will seek you."
"Did he then speak--before you?"
"As he lay wounded on that couch, he pronounced your name in his
dreams. Are you not that Jolanka Bardy whom they call 'The Angel'?
I knew you by your golden locks."
The young girl cast down her eyes. "Then you think he will come?"
she said in a low voice. And my relations?"
"He will come as soon as possible; and now you must take some food
and rest. Do not think about your relations now; they are all in a
safe place--nobody can hurt them more.
The Decurio brought some refreshment, laid a small prayer-book on
the pillow, and left the orphan by herself.
The poor girl opened the prayer-book, and her tears fell like rain-
drops on the blessed page; but, overcome by the fatigue and terror
she had undergone, her head ere long sank gently back, and she
slept calmly and sweetly the sleep of exhausted innocence.
As evening closed, the Decurio returned, and softly approaching the
bed, looked long and earnestly at the fair sleeper's face, until
two large tears stood unconsciously in his eyes.
The Roumin hastily brushed away the unwonted moisture, and as if
afraid of the feeling which had stolen into his breast, he hastened
from the room, and laid himself upon his woolen rug before the open
door.
The deserted castle still burned on, shedding a ghastly light on
the surrounding landscape, while the deepest silence reigned
around, only broken now and then by an expiring groan, or the
hoarse song of a drunken reveler.
Day was beginning to dawn as a troop of horsemen galloped furiously
towards the castle from the direction of Kolozsvar.
They were Imre and his comrades.
Silently and anxiously they pursued their course, their eyes fixed
upon one point, as they seemed to fly rather than gallop along the
road. "We are too late!" exclaimed one of the party at last,
pointing to a dim red smoke along the horizon. "Your castle is
burning!"
Without returning an answer, Imre spurred his panting horse to a
swifter pace. A turn in the road suddenly brought the castle to
their view, its blackened walls still burning, while red smoke rose
high against the side of the hill.
The young man uttered a fierce cry of despair, and galloped madly
down the declivity. In less than a quarter of an hour he stood
before the ruined walls.
"Where is my father? where are my family? where is my bride?" he
shrieked in frantic despair, brandishing his sword over the head of
a half-drunken Wallachian, who was leaning against the ruined
portico.
The latter fell to his knees, imploring mercy, and declaring that
it was not he who killed them.
"Then they are dead!" exclaimed the unhappy youth, as, half-choked
by his sobs, he fell forward on his horse's neck.
Meanwhile his companions had ridden up, and immediately sounded the
Wallachian, whom, but for Imre's interference, they would have cut
down.
"Lead us to where you have buried them. Are they all dead?" he
continued; "have you not left one alive? Accursed be the sun that
rises after such a night!"
The Wallachian pointed to a large heap of fresh-raised mould.
"They are all there!" he said.
Imre fell from his horse without another word, as if struck down.
His companions removed him to a little distance, where the grass
was least red.
They then began to dig twelve graves with their swords. Imre
watched them in silence. He seemed unconscious what they were
about.
When they had finished the graves they proceeded to open the large
pit, but the sight was too horrible, and they carried Imre away by
force. He could not have looked on what was there and still retain
his senses.
In a short time, one of his comrades approached and told him that
there were only eleven bodies in the grave.
"Then one of them must be alive!" cried Imre, a slight gleam of
hope passing over his pale features; "which is it?--speak! Is
there not a young girl with golden locks among them?"
"I know not," stammered his comrade, in great embarrassment.
"You do not know?--go and look again." His friend hesitated.
"Let me go--I must know," said Imre impatiently, as the young man
endeavored to detain him.
"O stay, Imre, you cannot look on them; they are all headless!"
"My God!" exclaimed the young man, covering his face with both
hands, and, bursting into tears he threw himself down with his face
upon the earth.
His comrades questioned the Wallachian closely as to what he knew
about the young girl. First he returned no answer, pretending to
be drunk and not to understand; but on their promising to spare his
life, on the sole condition that he would speak the truth, he
confessed that she had been carried away to the mountains, where
the band were to cast lots for her.
"I must go!" said Imre, starting as if in a trance.
"Whither?" inquired his comrades.
"To seek her! Take off your dress," he continued, turning to the
Wallachian, "you may have mine in exchange," and, hastily putting
on the tunic, he concealed his pistols in the girdle beneath it.
"We will follow you," said his comrades, taking up their arms; "we
will seek her from village to village."
"No, no, I must go alone! I shall find her more easily alone. If
I do not return, avenge this for me," he said, pointing to the
moat; then, turning to the Wallachian, he added sternly: "I have
found beneath your girdle a gold medallion, which my grandmother
wore suspended from her neck, and by which I know you to be one of
her murderers, and, had I not promised to spare your life, you
should now receive the punishment that you deserve. Keep him
here," he said to his comrades, "until I have crossed the hills,
and then let him go."
And taking leave of his friends, he cast one glance at the eleven
heaps, and at the burning castle of his ancestors, and hastened
toward the mountains.
The hoary autumn nights had dyed the leaves of the forest. The
whole country looked as if it had been washed in blood.
Deep amidst the wildest forest the path suddenly descends into a
narrow valley, surrounded by steep rocks at the foot of which lies
a little village half concealed among the trees.
It seemed as if the settlers there had only cleared sufficient
ground to build their dwellings, leaving all the rest a dense
forest. Apart from the rest, on the top of a rock, stood a
cottage, which, unlike others, was constructed entirely of large
blocks of stone, and only approachable by a small path cut in the
rock.
A young man ascended this path. He was attired in a peasant's garb
and although he evidently had traveled far, his step was light and
fleet. When he had ascended about halfway, he was suddenly stopped
by an armed Wallachian, who had been kneeling before a shrine in
the rock, and seeing the stranger, rose and stood in his path.
The latter pronounced the Decurio's name, and produced his pazsura.
The Wallachian examined it on every side, and then stepped back to
let the stranger pass, after which he once more laid down his
scythe and cap, and knelt before the shrine.
The stranger knocked at the Decurio's door, which was locked, and
an armed Wallachian appeared from behind the rocks, and informed
him that the Decurio was not at home, only his wife.
"His wife?" exclaimed the stranger in surprise.
"Yes, that pale girl who fell to him by lot."
"And she is his wife."
"He told us so himself, and swore that if any of us dared so much
as lift his eye upon her, he would send him to St. Nicholas in
paradise."
"Can I not see her?"
"I would not advise you; for if the Decurio hears of it, he will
make halves of you; but you may go around to the window if you
like--only let me get out of the way first, that the Decurio may
not find me here."
The stranger hastened to the window, and looking in, he saw the
young girl seated on an armchair made of rough birch boughs, with a
little prayer-book on her knee; her fair arm supporting her head,
while a mass of golden ringlets half veiled her face, which was as
pale as an alabaster statue; the extreme sadness of its expression
rendering her beauty still more touching.
"Jolanka!" exclaimed the stranger passionately.
She started at the well-known voice, and, uttering a cry of joy,
rushed to the window.
"Oh, Imre!" she murmured, "are you come at last!"
"Can I not enter? can I not speak with you?"
The young girl hastened to unbar the door, which was locked on the
inside, and as Imre entered she threw herself into his arms, while
he pressed her fondly to his heart.
The Wallachian, who had stolen to the window, stood aghast with
terror and, soon as the Decurio arrived, he ran to meet him, and
related, with vehement gesticulations, how the girl had thrown
herself into the peasant's arms.
"And how did you know that?" asked Numa coldly.
"I saw them through the window."
"And dared you look through my window? Did I not forbid you? Down
on your knees, and pray!"
The Wallachian fell on his knees, and clasped his hands. "Rebel!
you deserve your punishment of death for having disobeyed my
commands; and if you ever dare to open your lips on the subject,
depend upon it, you shall not escape!" And with these words he
strode away, leaving the astonished informer on his knees, in which
posture he remained for some time afterwards, not daring to raise
his head until the Decurio's steps had died away.
As Numa entered the house, the lovers hastened to meet him. For an
instant or two he stood at the threshold, regarding the young man
with a look of silent reproach. "Why did you come so late?" he
asked.
Imre held out his hand, but the Decurio did not accept it. "The
blood of your family is on my hand," he whispered. "You have let
dishonor come on me, and mourning on yourself."
The young man's head sunk on his breast in silent anguish.
"Take his hand," said Jolanka, in her low, sweet accents; and then
turning to Imre, "He saved your life--he saved us both, and he will
rescue our family, too."
Imre looked at her in astonishment.
The Decurio seized his arms and drew him aside. "She does not know
that they are dead," he whispered; "she was not with them, and
knows nothing of their fate; and I have consoled her with the idea
that they are all prisoners, she must never know the horrors of
that fearful night."
"But sooner or later she will hear it."
"Never! you must leave the place and the kingdom. You must go to
Turkey."
"My way lies towards Hungary."
"You must not think of it. Evil days await that country; your
prophets do not see them, but I know, and see them clearly. Go to
Turkey; I will give you letters by which you may pass in security
through Wallachia and Moldavia; and here is a purse of gold--do not
scruple to accept it, for it is your own, it belonged to THEM.
Promise me, for her sake," he continued earnestly, pointing to
Jolanka, "that you will not go to Hungary."
Imre hesitated. "I cannot promise what I am not sure I shall
fulfill; but I shall remember your advice."
Numa took the hands of the two lovers, and, gazing long and
earnestly on their faces, he said, in a voice of deep feeling, "You
love one another?"
They pressed his hand in silence.
"You will be happy--you will forget your misfortunes. God bless
and guide you on your way! Take these letters, and keep the direct
road to Brasso,* by the Saxon-land.** You will find free passage
everywhere, and never look behind until the last pinnacles of the
snowy mountains are beyond your sight. Go! we will not take leave,
not a word, let us forget each other!"
* Brasso, or Kyonstadt, a town in the southeast of Transylvania, on
the frontier of Wallachia.
** A district inhabited by a colony of Saxons.
The Decurio watched the lovers until they were out of sight; and
called to them, even when they could hear him no longer: "Do not go
towards Hungary."
He then entered his house. The prayer-book lay open as the young
girl had left it; the page was still damp with her tears. Numa's
hand trembled, as he kissed the volume fervently and placed it in
his bosom.
When night came on, the Roumin lay down on his wolf-skin couch,
where the golden-haired maiden, and her lover before her, had
slept, but it seemed as if they had stolen his rest--he could not
close his eyes there, so he rose and went out on the porch, where
he spread his rug before the open door; but it was long ere he
could sleep--there was an unwonted feeling at his heart, something
like happiness, yet inexpressibly sad; and, buried in deep reverie,
he lay with his eyes fixed on the dark blue starry vault above him
till past midnight. Suddenly he thought he heard the report of
some fire-arms at a great distance, and at the same moment two
stars sank beneath the horizon. Numa thought of the travelers, and
a voice seemed to whisper, "They are now happy!"
The moon had risen high in the heavens, when the Decurio was roused
from his sleep by heavy footsteps, and five or six Wallachians,
among whom was Lupey, stood before him.
"We have brought two enemies' heads," said the latter, with a dark
look at the Decurio; "pay us their worth!" and taking two heads
from his pouch he laid them on Numa's mat.
The Wallachians watched their leader's countenance with sharp,
suspicious glances.
Numa recognized the two heads by the light of the moon. They were
those of Imre and Jolanka, but his features did not betray the
slightest emotion.
"You will know them probably," continued Lupey. "The young
magnate, who escaped us at the pass, came for the girl in your
absence, and at the same time stole your money, and, what is more,
we found your pazsura upon him also."
"Who killed them?" asked the Decurio, in his usual calm voice.
"None of us," replied the Wallachian; "as we rushed upon them, the
young magnate drew two pistols from his girdle, and shot the girl
through the head first, and himself afterwards."
"Were you all there?"
"And more of us besides."
"Go back and bring the rest. I will divide the money you have
found on them among you. Make haste; and should one of you remain
behind, his share will be divided among the rest."
The Wallachians hastened to seek their comrades with cries of joy.
The Decurio then locked the door, and, throwing himself upon the
ground beside the two heads, he kissed them a hundred times, and
sobbed like a child.
"I warned you not to go toward Hungary!" he said bitterly. "Why
did you not hear me, unhappy children? why did you not take my
word?" and he wept over his enemies' heads as if he had been their
father.
He then rose, his eyes darting fire, and, shaking his terrible
fist, he cried, in a voice hoarse with rage: "Czine mintye!"*
* Czine mintye!--A Wallachian term signifying revenge.
In a few hours, the Wallachians had assembled before the Decurio's
house. They were about fifty or sixty, all wild, fearful-looking
men.
Numa covered the two heads with a cloth, and laid them on the bed,
after which he opened the door.
Lupey entered last.
"Lock the door," said Numa, when they were all in; we must not be
interrupted;" and, making them stand in a circle, he looked around
at them all, one by one.
"Are you all here?" he asked at last.
"Not one is absent."
"Do you consider yourselves all equally deserving of sharing THE
BOOTY?"
"All of us."
"It was you," he continued to Lupey, "who struck down the old man?"
"It was."
"And you who pierced the magnate with a spike?"
"You are right, leader."
"And you really killed all the women in the castle?" turning to a
third.
"With my own hand."
"And one and all of you can boast of having massacred, and
plundered, and set on fire?"
"All! all!" they cried, striking their breasts.
"Do not lie before Heaven. See! your wives are listening at the
window to what you say, and will betray you if you do not speak the
truth."
"We speak the truth!"
"It is well!" said the leader, as he calmly approached the bed;
and, seating himself on it, uncovered the two heads and placed them
on his knee. "Where did you put their bodies?" he asked.
"We cut them in pieces and strewed them on the highroad."
There was a short silence. Numa's breathing became more and more
oppressed, and his large chest heaved convulsively. "Have you
prayed yet?" he asked in an altered voice.
"Not yet, leader. What should we pray for?" said Lupey.
"Fall down on your knees and pray, for this is the last morning
which will dawn on any of you again."
"Are you in your senses, leader? What are you going to do?"
"I am going to purge the Roumin nation of a set of ruthless
murderers and brigands. Miserable wretches; instead of glory, you
have brought dishonor and disgrace upon our arms wherever you have
appeared. While the brave fought on the field of battle, you
slaughtered their wives and children; while they risked their lives
before the cannon's mouth you attacked the house of the sleepers
and robbed and massacred the helpless and the innocent. Fall down
on your knees and pray for your souls, for the angel of death
stands over you, to blot out your memory from among the Roumin
people!"
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