The Lady of the Shroud - Page 10/16

RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.

July 3, 1907.

There is no anodyne but work to pain of the heart; and my pain is all of

the heart. I sometimes feel that it is rather hard that with so much to

make me happy I cannot know happiness. How can I be happy when my wife,

whom I fondly love, and who I know loves me, is suffering in horror and

loneliness of a kind which is almost beyond human belief? However, what

is my loss is my country's gain, for the Land of the Blue Mountains is my

country now, despite the fact that I am still a loyal subject of good

King Edward. Uncle Roger took care of that when he said I should have

the consent of the Privy Council before I might be naturalized anywhere

else.

When I got home yesterday morning I naturally could not sleep. The

events of the night and the bitter disappointment that followed my

exciting joy made such a thing impossible. When I drew the curtain over

the window, the reflection of the sunrise was just beginning to tinge the

high-sailing clouds in front of me. I laid down and tried to rest, but

without avail. However, I schooled myself to lie still, and at last, if

I did not sleep, was at least quiescent.

Disturbed by a gentle tap at the door, I sprang up at once and threw on a

dressing gown. Outside, when I opened the door, was Aunt Janet. She was

holding a lighted candle in her hand, for though it was getting light in

the open, the passages were still dark. When she saw me she seemed to

breathe more freely, and asked if she might come in.

Whilst she sat on the edge of my bed, in her old-time way, she said in a

hushed voice:

"Oh, laddie, laddie, I trust yer burden is no too heavy to bear."

"My burden! What on earth do you mean, Aunt Janet?" I said in reply. I

did not wish to commit myself by a definite answer, for it was evident

that she had been dreaming or Second Sighting again. She replied with

the grim seriousness usual to her when she touched on occult matters:

"I saw your hairt bleeding, laddie. I kent it was yours, though how I

kent it I don't know. It lay on a stone floor in the dark, save for a

dim blue light such as corpse-lights are. On it was placed a great book,

and close around were scattered many strange things, amongst them two

crowns o' flowers--the one bound wi' silver, the other wi' gold. There

was also a golden cup, like a chalice, o'erturned. The red wine trickled

from it an' mingled wi' yer hairt's bluid; for on the great book was some

vast dim weight wrapped up in black, and on it stepped in turn many men

all swathed in black. An' as the weight of each came on it the bluid

gushed out afresh. And oh, yer puir hairt, my laddie, was quick and

leaping, so that at every beat it raised the black-clad weight! An' yet

that was not all, for hard by stood a tall imperial shape o' a woman, all

arrayed in white, wi' a great veil o' finest lace worn o'er a shrood.

An' she was whiter than the snow, an' fairer than the morn for beauty;

though a dark woman she was, wi' hair like the raven, an' eyes black as

the sea at nicht, an' there was stars in them. An' at each beat o' yer

puir bleeding hairt she wrung her white hands, an' the manin' o' her

sweet voice rent my hairt in twain. Oh, laddie, laddie! what does it

mean?"

I managed to murmur: "I'm sure I don't know, Aunt Janet. I suppose it

was all a dream!"

"A dream it was, my dear. A dream or a veesion, whilka matters nane, for

a' such are warnin's sent frae God . . . " Suddenly she said in a

different voice:

"Laddie, hae ye been fause to any lassie? I'm no blamin' ye. For ye men

are different frae us women, an' yer regard on recht and wrang differs

from oors. But oh, laddie, a woman's tears fa' heavy when her hairt is

for sair wi' the yieldin' to fause words. 'Tis a heavy burden for ony

man to carry wi' him as he goes, an' may well cause pain to ithers that

he fain would spare." She stopped, and in dead silence waited for me to

speak. I thought it would be best to set her poor loving heart at rest,

and as I could not divulge my special secret, spoke in general terms:

"Aunt Janet, I am a man, and have led a man's life, such as it is. But I

can tell you, who have always loved me and taught me to be true, that in

all the world there is no woman who must weep for any falsity of mine.

If close there be any who, sleeping or waking, in dreams or visions or in

reality, weeps because of me, it is surely not for my doing, but because

of something outside me. It may be that her heart is sore because I must

suffer, as all men must in some degree; but she does not weep for or

through any act of mine."

She sighed happily at my assurance, and looked up through her tears, for

she was much moved; and after tenderly kissing my forehead and blessing

me, stole away. She was more sweet and tender than I have words to say,

and the only regret that I have in all that is gone is that I have not

been able to bring my wife to her, and let her share in the love she has

for me. But that, too, will come, please God!

In the morning I sent a message to Rooke at Otranto, instructing him by

code to bring the yacht to Vissarion in the coming night.

All day I spent in going about amongst the mountaineers, drilling them

and looking after their arms. I could not stay still. My only chance

of peace was to work, my only chance of sleep to tire myself out.

Unhappily, I am very strong, so even when I came home at dark I was quite

fresh. However, I found a cable message from Rooke that the yacht would

arrive at midnight.

There was no need to summon the mountaineers, as the men in the Castle

would be sufficient to make preparations for the yacht's coming.

Later.

The yacht has come. At half-past eleven the lookout signalled that a

steamer without lights was creeping in towards the Creek. I ran out to

the Flagstaff, and saw her steal in like a ghost. She is painted a

steely blue-grey, and it is almost impossible to see her at any distance.

She certainly goes wonderfully. Although there was not enough throb from

the engines to mar the absolute stillness, she came on at a fine speed,

and within a few minutes was close to the boom. I had only time to run

down to give orders to draw back the boom when she glided in and stopped

dead at the harbour wall. Rooke steered her himself, and he says he

never was on a boat that so well or so quickly answered her helm. She is

certainly a beauty, and so far as I can see at night perfect in every

detail. I promise myself a few pleasant hours over her in the daylight.

The men seem a splendid lot.

But I do not feel sleepy; I despair of sleep to-night. But work demands

that I be fit for whatever may come, and so I shall try to sleep--to

rest, at any rate.

July 4, 1907.

I was up with the first ray of sunrise, so by the time I had my bath and

was dressed there was ample light. I went down to the dock at once, and

spent the morning looking over the vessel, which fully justifies Rooke's

enthusiasm about her. She is built on lovely lines, and I can quite

understand that she is enormously fast. Her armour I can only take on

the specifications, but her armament is really wonderful. And there are

not only all the very newest devices of aggressive warfare--indeed, she

has the newest up-to-date torpedoes and torpedo-guns--but also the

old-fashioned rocket-tubes, which in certain occasions are so useful.

She has electric guns and the latest Massillon water-guns, and Reinhardt

electro-pneumatic "deliverers" for pyroxiline shells. She is even

equipped with war-balloons easy of expansion, and with compressible

Kitson aeroplanes. I don't suppose that there is anything quite like her

in the world.

The crew are worthy of her. I can't imagine where Rooke picked up such a

splendid lot of men. They are nearly all man-of-warsmen; of various

nationalities, but mostly British. All young men--the oldest of them

hasn't got into the forties--and, so far as I can learn, all experts of

one kind or another in some special subject of warfare. It will go hard

with me, but I shall keep them together.

How I got through the rest of the day I know not. I tried hard not to

create any domestic trouble by my manner, lest Aunt Janet should, after

her lurid dream or vision of last night, attach some new importance to

it. I think I succeeded, for she did not, so far as I could tell, take

any special notice of me. We parted as usual at half-past ten, and I

came here and made this entry in my journal. I am more restless than

ever to-night, and no wonder. I would give anything to be able to pay a

visit to St. Sava's, and see my wife again--if it were only sleeping in

her tomb. But I dare not do even that, lest she should come to see me

here, and I should miss her. So I have done what I can. The glass door

to the Terrace is open, so that she can enter at once if she comes. The

fire is lit, and the room is warm. There is food ready in case she

should care for it. I have plenty of light in the room, so that through

the aperture where I have not fully drawn the curtain there may be light

to guide her.

Oh, how the time drags! The clock has struck midnight. One, two! Thank

goodness, it will shortly be dawn, and the activity of the day may begin!

Work may again prove, in a way, to be an anodyne. In the meantime I must

write on, lest despair overwhelm me.

Once during the night I thought I heard a footstep outside. I rushed to

the window and looked out, but there was nothing to see, no sound to

hear. That was a little after one o'clock. I feared to go outside, lest

that should alarm her; so I came back to my table. I could not write,

but I sat as if writing for a while. But I could not stand it, so rose

and walked about the room. As I walked I felt that my Lady--it gives me

a pang every time I remember that I do not know even her name--was not

quite so far away from me. It made my heart beat to think that it might

mean that she was coming to me. Could not I as well as Aunt Janet have a

little Second Sight! I went towards the window, and, standing behind the

curtain, listened. Far away I thought I heard a cry, and ran out on the

Terrace; but there was no sound to be heard, and no sign of any living

thing anywhere; so I took it for granted that it was the cry of some

night bird, and came back to my room, and wrote at my journal till I was

calm. I think my nerves must be getting out of order, when every sound

of the night seems to have a special meaning for me.

July 7, 1907

When the grey of the morning came, I gave up hope of my wife appearing,

and made up my mind that, so soon as I could get away without exciting

Aunt Janet's attention, I would go to St. Sava's. I always eat a good

breakfast, and did I forgo it altogether, it would be sure to excite her

curiosity--a thing I do not wish at present. As there was still time to

wait, I lay down on my bed as I was, and--such is the way of

Fate--shortly fell asleep.

I was awakened by a terrific clattering at my door. When I opened it I

found a little group of servants, very apologetic at awaking me without

instructions. The chief of them explained that a young priest had come

from the Vladika with a message so urgent that he insisted on seeing me

immediately at all hazards. I came out at once, and found him in the

hall of the Castle, standing before the great fire, which was always lit

in the early morning. He had a letter in his hand, but before giving it

to me he said:

"I am sent by the Vladika, who pressed on me that I was not to lose a

single instant in seeing you; that time is of golden price--nay, beyond

price. This letter, amongst other things, vouches for me. A terrible

misfortune has occurred. The daughter of our leader has disappeared

during last night--the same, he commanded me to remind you, that he spoke

of at the meeting when he would not let the mountaineers fire their guns.

No sign of her can be found, and it is believed that she has been carried

off by the emissaries of the Sultan of Turkey, who once before brought

our nations to the verge of war by demanding her as a wife. I was also

to say that the Vladika Plamenac would have come himself, but that it was

necessary that he should at once consult with the Archbishop, Stevan

Palealogue, as to what step is best to take in this dire calamity. He

has sent out a search-party under the Archimandrite of Spazac, Petrof

Vlastimir, who is to come on here with any news he can get, as you have

command of the signalling, and can best spread the news. He knows that

you, Gospodar, are in your great heart one of our compatriots, and that

you have already proved your friendship by many efforts to strengthen our

hands for war. And as a great compatriot, he calls on you to aid us in

our need." He then handed me the letter, and stood by respectfully

whilst I broke the seal and read it. It was written in great haste, and

signed by the Vladika.

"Come with us now in our nation's peril. Help us to rescue what we most

adore, and henceforth we shall hold you in our hearts. You shall learn

how the men of the Blue Mountains can love faith and valour. Come!"

This was a task indeed--a duty worthy of any man. It thrilled me to the

core to know that the men of the Blue Mountains had called on me in their

dire need. It woke all the fighting instinct of my Viking forbears, and

I vowed in my heart that they should be satisfied with my work. I called

to me the corps of signallers who were in the house, and led them to the

Castle roof, taking with me the young messenger-priest.

"Come with me," I said to him, "and see how I answer the Vladika's

command."

The National flag was run up--the established signal that the nation was

in need. Instantly on every summit near and far was seen the flutter of

an answering flag. Quickly followed the signal that commanded the call

to arms.

One by one I gave the signallers orders in quick succession, for the plan

of search unfolded itself to me as I went on. The arms of the semaphore

whirled in a way that made the young priest stare. One by one, as they

took their orders, the signallers seemed to catch fire. Instinctively

they understood the plan, and worked like demigods. They knew that so

widespread a movement had its best chance in rapidity and in unity of

action.

From the forest which lay in sight of the Castle came a wild cheering,

which seemed to interpret the former stillness of the hills. It was good

to feel that those who saw the signals--types of many--were ready. I saw

the look of expectation on the face of the messenger-priest, and rejoiced

at the glow that came as I turned to him to speak. Of course, he wanted

to know something of what was going on. I saw the flashing of my own

eyes reflected in his as I spoke:

"Tell the Vladika that within a minute of his message being read the Land

of the Blue Mountains was awake. The mountaineers are already marching,

and before the sun is high there will be a line of guards within hail of

each other round the whole frontier--from Angusa to Ilsin; from Ilsin to

Bajana; from Bajana to Ispazar; from Ispazar to Volok; from Volok to

Tatra; from Tatra to Domitan; from Domitan to Gravaja; and from Gravaja

back to Angusa. The line is double. The old men keep guard on the line,

and the young men advance. These will close in at the advancing line, so

that nothing can escape them. They will cover mountain-top and forest

depth, and will close in finally on the Castle here, which they can

behold from afar. My own yacht is here, and will sweep the coast from

end to end. It is the fastest boat afloat, and armed against a squadron.

Here will all signals come. In an hour where we stand will be a signal

bureau, where trained eyes will watch night and day till the lost one has

been found and the outrage has been avenged. The robbers are even now

within a ring of steel, and cannot escape."

The young priest, all on fire, sprang on the battlements and shouted to

the crowd, which was massing round the Castle in the gardens far below.

The forest was giving up its units till they seemed like the nucleus of

an army. The men cheered lustily, till the sound swung high up to us

like the roaring of a winter sea. With bared heads they were crying:

"God and the Blue Mountains! God and the Blue Mountains!"

I ran down to them as quickly as I could, and began to issue their

instructions. Within a time to be computed by minutes the whole number,

organized by sections, had started to scour the neighbouring mountains.

At first they had only understood the call to arms for general safety.

But when they learned that the daughter of a chief had been captured,

they simply went mad. From something which the messenger first said, but

which I could not catch or did not understand, the blow seemed to have

for them some sort of personal significance which wrought them to a

frenzy.

When the bulk of the men had disappeared, I took with me a few of my own

men and several of the mountaineers whom I had asked to remain, and

together we went to the hidden ravine which I knew. We found the place

empty; but there were unmistakable signs that a party of men had been

encamped there for several days. Some of our men, who were skilled in

woodcraft and in signs generally, agreed that there must have been some

twenty of them. As they could not find any trail either coming to or

going from the place, they came to the conclusion that they must have

come separately from different directions and gathered there, and that

they must have departed in something of the same mysterious way.

However, this was, at any rate, some sort of a beginning, and the men

separated, having agreed amongst themselves to make a wide cast round the

place in the search for tracks. Whoever should find a trail was to

follow with at least one comrade, and when there was any definite news,

it was to be signalled to the Castle.

I myself returned at once, and set the signallers to work to spread

amongst our own people such news as we had.

When presently such discoveries as had been made were signalled with

flags to the Castle, it was found that the marauders had, in their

flight, followed a strangely zigzag course. It was evident that, in

trying to baffle pursuit, they had tried to avoid places which they

thought might be dangerous to them. This may have been simply a method

to disconcert pursuit. If so, it was, in a measure, excellent, for none

of those immediately following could possibly tell in what direction they

were heading. It was only when we worked the course on the great map in

the signaller's room (which was the old guard room of the Castle) that we

could get an inkling of the general direction of their flight. This gave

added trouble to the pursuit; for the men who followed, being ignorant of

their general intent, could not ever take chance to head them off, but

had to be ready to follow in any or every direction. In this manner the

pursuit was altogether a stern chase, and therefore bound to be a long

one.

As at present we could not do anything till the intended route was more

marked, I left the signalling corps to the task of receiving and giving

information to the moving bands, so that, if occasion served, they might

head off the marauders. I myself took Rooke, as captain of the yacht,

and swept out of the creek. We ran up north to Dalairi, then down south

to Olesso, and came back to Vissarion. We saw nothing suspicious except,

far off to the extreme southward, one warship which flew no flag. Rooke,

however, who seemed to know ships by instinct, said she was a Turk; so on

our return we signalled along the whole shore to watch her. Rooke held

The Lady--which was the name I had given the armoured yacht--in readiness

to dart out in case anything suspicious was reported. He was not to

stand on any ceremony, but if necessary to attack. We did not intend to

lose a point in this desperate struggle which we had undertaken. We had

placed in different likely spots a couple of our own men to look after

the signalling.

When I got back I found that the route of the fugitives, who had now

joined into one party, had been definitely ascertained. They had gone

south, but manifestly taking alarm from the advancing line of guards, had

headed up again to the north-east, where the country was broader and the

mountains wilder and less inhabited.

Forthwith, leaving the signalling altogether in the hands of the fighting

priests, I took a small chosen band of the mountaineers of our own

district, and made, with all the speed we could, to cut across the track

of the fugitives a little ahead of them. The Archimandrite (Abbot) of

Spazac, who had just arrived, came with us. He is a splendid man--a real

fighter as well as a holy cleric, as good with his handjar as with his

Bible, and a runner to beat the band. The marauders were going at a

fearful pace, considering that they were all afoot; so we had to go fast

also! Amongst these mountains there is no other means of progressing.

Our own men were so aflame with ardour that I could not but notice that

they, more than any of the others whom I had seen, had some special cause

for concern.

When I mentioned it to the Archimandrite, who moved by my side, he

answered:

"All natural enough; they are not only fighting for their country, but

for their own!" I did not quite understand his answer, and so began to

ask him some questions, to the effect that I soon began to understand a

good deal more than he did.

Letter from Archbishop Stevan Palealogue, Head of the Eastern Church

of the Blue Mountains, to the Lady Janet MacKelpie, Vissarion.

Written July 9, 1907.

HONOURED LADY,

As you wish for an understanding regarding the late lamentable

occurrence in which so much danger was incurred to this our Land of

the Blue Mountains, and one dear to us, I send these words by request

of the Gospodar Rupert, beloved of our mountaineers.

When the Voivode Peter Vissarion made his journey to the great nation

to whom we looked in our hour of need, it was necessary that he

should go in secret. The Turk was at our gates, and full of the

malice of baffled greed. Already he had tried to arrange a marriage

with the Voivodin, so that in time to come he, as her husband, might

have established a claim to the inheritance of the land. Well he

knew, as do all men, that the Blue Mountaineers owe allegiance to

none that they themselves do not appoint to rulership. This has been

the history in the past. But now and again an individual has arisen

or come to the front adapted personally for such government as this

land requires. And so the Lady Teuta, Voivodin of the Blue

Mountains, was put for her proper guarding in the charge of myself as

Head of the Eastern Church in the Land of the Blue Mountains, steps

being taken in such wise that no capture of her could be effected by

unscrupulous enemies of this our Land. This task and guardianship

was gladly held as an honour by all concerned. For the Voivodin

Teuta of Vissarion must be taken as representing in her own person

the glory of the old Serb race, inasmuch as being the only child of

the Voivode Vissarion, last male of his princely race--the race which

ever, during the ten centuries of our history, unflinchingly gave

life and all they held for the protection, safety, and well-being of

the Land of the Blue Mountains. Never during those centuries had any

one of the race been known to fail in patriotism, or to draw back

from any loss or hardship enjoined by high duty or stress of need.

Moreover, this was the race of that first Voivode Vissarion, of whom,

in legend, it was prophesied that he--once known as "The Sword of

Freedom," a giant amongst men--would some day, when the nation had

need of him, come forth from his water-tomb in the lost Lake of Reo,

and lead once more the men of the Blue Mountains to lasting victory.

This noble race, then, had come to be known as the last hope of the

Land. So that when the Voivode was away on his country's service,

his daughter should be closely guarded. Soon after the Voivode had

gone, it was reported that he might be long delayed in his

diplomacies, and also in studying the system of Constitutional

Monarchy, for which it had been hoped to exchange our imperfect

political system. I may say inter alia that he was mentioned as to

be the first king when the new constitution should have been

arranged.

Then a great misfortune came on us; a terrible grief overshadowed the

land. After a short illness, the Voivodin Teuta Vissarion died

mysteriously of a mysterious ailment. The grief of the mountaineers

was so great that it became necessary for the governing Council to

warn them not to allow their sorrow to be seen. It was imperatively

necessary that the fact of her death should be kept secret. For

there were dangers and difficulties of several kinds. In the first

place it was advisable that even her father should be kept in

ignorance of his terrible loss. It was well known that he held her

as the very core of his heart and that if he should hear of her

death, he would be too much prostrated to be able to do the intricate

and delicate work which he had undertaken. Nay, more: he would never

remain afar off, under the sad circumstances, but would straightway

return, so as to be in the land where she lay. Then suspicions would

crop up, and the truth must shortly be known afield, with the

inevitable result that the Land would become the very centre of a war

of many nations.

In the second place, if the Turks were to know that the race of

Vissarion was becoming extinct, this would encourage them to further

aggression, which would become immediate should they find out that

the Voivode was himself away. It was well known that they were

already only suspending hostilities until a fitting opportunity

should arise. Their desire for aggression had become acute after the

refusal of the nation, and of the girl herself, that she should

become a wife of the Sultan.

The dead girl had been buried in the Crypt of the church of St. Sava,

and day after day and night after night, singly and in parties, the

sorrowing mountaineers had come to pay devotion and reverence at her

tomb. So many had wished to have a last glimpse of her face that the

Vladika had, with my own consent as Archbishop, arranged for a glass

cover to be put over the stone coffin wherein her body lay.

After a little time, however, there came a belief to all concerned in

the guarding of the body--these, of course, being the priests of

various degrees of dignity appointed to the task--that the Voivodin

was not really dead, but only in a strangely-prolonged trance.

Thereupon a new complication arose. Our mountaineers are, as perhaps

you know, by nature deeply suspicious--a characteristic of all brave

and self-sacrificing people who are jealous of their noble heritage.

Having, as they believed, seen the girl dead, they might not be

willing to accept the fact of her being alive. They might even

imagine that there was on foot some deep, dark plot which was, or

might be, a menace, now or hereafter, to their independence. In any

case, there would be certain to be two parties on the subject, a

dangerous and deplorable thing in the present condition of affairs.

As the trance, or catalepsy, whatever it was, continued for many

days, there had been ample time for the leaders of the Council, the

Vladika, the priesthood represented by the Archimandrite of Spazac,

myself as Archbishop and guardian of the Voivodin in her father's

absence, to consult as to a policy to be observed in case of the girl

awaking. For in such case the difficulty of the situation would be

multiplied indefinitely. In the secret chambers of St. Sava's we had

many secret meetings, and were finally converging on agreement when

the end of the trance came.

The girl awoke!

She was, of course, terribly frightened when she found herself in a

tomb in the Crypt. It was truly fortunate that the great candles

around her tomb had been kept lighted, for their light mitigated the

horror of the place. Had she waked in darkness, her reason might

have become unseated.

She was, however, a very noble girl; brave, with extraordinary will,

and resolution, and self-command, and power of endurance. When she

had been taken into one of the secret chambers of the church, where

she was warmed and cared for, a hurried meeting was held by the

Vladika, myself, and the chiefs of the National Council. Word had

been at once sent to me of the joyful news of her recovery; and with

the utmost haste I came, arriving in time to take a part in the

Council.

At the meeting the Voivodin was herself present, and full confidence

of the situation was made to her. She herself proposed that the

belief in her death should be allowed to prevail until the return of

her father, when all could be effectively made clear. To this end

she undertook to submit to the terrific strain which such a

proceeding would involve. At first we men could not believe that any

woman could go through with such a task, and some of us did not

hesitate to voice our doubts--our disbelief. But she stood to her

guns, and actually down-faced us. At the last we, remembering things

that had been done, though long ages ago, by others of her race, came

to believe not merely in her self-belief and intention, but even in

the feasibility of her plan. She took the most solemn oaths not to

betray the secret under any possible stress.

The priesthood undertook through the Vladika and myself to further a

ghostly belief amongst the mountaineers which would tend to prevent a

too close or too persistent observation. The Vampire legend was

spread as a protection against partial discovery by any mischance,

and other weird beliefs were set afoot and fostered. Arrangements

were made that only on certain days were the mountaineers to be

admitted to the Crypt, she agreeing that for these occasions she was

to take opiates or carry out any other aid to the preservation of the

secret. She was willing, she impressed upon us, to make any personal

sacrifice which might be deemed necessary for the carrying out her

father's task for the good of the nation.

Of course, she had at first terrible frights lying alone in the

horror of the Crypt. But after a time the terrors of the situation,

if they did not cease, were mitigated. There are secret caverns off

the Crypt, wherein in troublous times the priests and others of high

place have found safe retreat. One of these was prepared for the

Voivodin, and there she remained, except for such times as she was on

show--and certain other times of which I shall tell you. Provision

was made for the possibility of any accidental visit to the church.

At such times, warned by an automatic signal from the opening door,

she was to take her place in the tomb. The mechanism was so arranged

that the means to replace the glass cover, and to take the opiate,

were there ready to her hand. There was to be always a watch of

priests at night in the church, to guard her from ghostly fears as

well as from more physical dangers; and if she was actually in her

tomb, it was to be visited at certain intervals. Even the draperies

which covered her in the sarcophagus were rested on a bridge placed

from side to side just above her, so as to hide the rising and

falling of her bosom as she slept under the narcotic.

After a while the prolonged strain began to tell so much on her that

it was decided that she should take now and again exercise out of

doors. This was not difficult, for when the Vampire story which we

had spread began to be widely known, her being seen would be accepted

as a proof of its truth. Still, as there was a certain danger in her

being seen at all, we thought it necessary to exact from her a solemn

oath that so long as her sad task lasted she should under no

circumstances ever wear any dress but her shroud--this being the only

way to insure secrecy and to prevail against accident.

There is a secret way from the Crypt to a sea cavern, whose entrance

is at high-tide under the water-line at the base of the cliff on

which the church is built. A boat, shaped like a coffin, was

provided for her; and in this she was accustomed to pass across the

creek whenever she wished to make excursion. It was an excellent

device, and most efficacious in disseminating the Vampire belief.

This state of things had now lasted from before the time when the

Gospodar Rupert came to Vissarion up to the day of the arrival of the

armoured yacht.

That night the priest on duty, on going his round of the Crypt just

before dawn, found the tomb empty. He called the others, and they

made full search. The boat was gone from the cavern, but on making

search they found it on the farther side of the creek, close to the

garden stairs. Beyond this they could discover nothing. She seemed

to have disappeared without leaving a trace.

Straightway they went to the Vladika, and signalled to me by the

fire-signal at the monastery at Astrag, where I then was. I took a

band of mountaineers with me, and set out to scour the country. But

before going I sent an urgent message to the Gospodar Rupert, asking

him, who showed so much interest and love to our Land, to help us in

our trouble. He, of course, knew nothing then of all have now told

you. Nevertheless, he devoted himself whole-heartedly to our

needs--as doubtless you know.

But the time had now come close when the Voivode Vissarion was about

to return from his mission; and we of the council of his daughter's

guardianship were beginning to arrange matters so that at his return

the good news of her being still alive could be made public. With

her father present to vouch for her, no question as to truth could

arise.

But by some means the Turkish "Bureau of Spies" must have got

knowledge of the fact already. To steal a dead body for the purpose

of later establishing a fictitious claim would have been an

enterprise even more desperate than that already undertaken. We

inferred from many signs, made known to us in an investigation, that

a daring party of the Sultan's emissaries had made a secret incursion

with the object of kidnapping the Voivodin. They must have been bold

of heart and strong of resource to enter the Land of the Blue

Mountains on any errand, let alone such a desperate one as this. For

centuries we have been teaching the Turk through bitter lessons that

it is neither a safe task nor an easy one to make incursion here.

How they did it we know not--at present; but enter they did, and,

after waiting in some secret hiding-place for a favourable

opportunity, secured their prey. We know not even now whether they

had found entrance to the Crypt and stole, as they thought, the dead

body, or whether, by some dire mischance, they found her

abroad--under her disguise as a ghost. At any rate, they had

captured her, and through devious ways amongst the mountains were

bearing her back to Turkey. It was manifest that when she was on

Turkish soil the Sultan would force a marriage on her so as

eventually to secure for himself or his successors as against all

other nations a claim for the suzerainty or guardianship of the Blue

Mountains.

Such was the state of affairs when the Gospodar Rupert threw himself

into the pursuit with fiery zeal and the Berserk passion which he

inherited from Viking ancestors, whence of old came "The Sword of

Freedom" himself.

But at that very time was another possibility which the Gospodar was

himself the first to realize. Failing the getting the Voivodin safe

to Turkish soil, the ravishers might kill her! This would be

entirely in accord with the base traditions and history of the

Moslems. So, too, it would accord with Turkish customs and the

Sultan's present desires. It would, in its way, benefit the ultimate

strategetic ends of Turkey. For were once the Vissarion race at an

end, the subjection of the Land of the Blue Mountains might, in their

view, be an easier task than it had yet been found to be.

Such, illustrious lady, were the conditions of affairs when the

Gospodar Rupert first drew his handjar for the Blue Mountains and

what it held most dear.

PALEALOGUE,

Archbishop of the Eastern Church, in the Land of the Blue

Mountains.

RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.

July 8, 1907.

I wonder if ever in the long, strange history of the world had there come

to any other such glad tidings as came to me--and even then rather

inferentially than directly--from the Archimandrite's answers to my

questioning. Happily I was able to restrain myself, or I should have

created some strange confusion which might have evoked distrust, and

would certainly have hampered us in our pursuit. For a little I could

hardly accept the truth which wove itself through my brain as the true

inwardness of each fact came home to me and took its place in the whole

fabric. But even the most welcome truth has to be accepted some time by

even a doubting heart. My heart, whatever it may have been, was not then

a doubting heart, but a very, very grateful one. It was only the

splendid magnitude of the truth which forbade its immediate acceptance.

I could have shouted for joy, and only stilled myself by keeping my

thoughts fixed on the danger which my wife was in. My wife! My wife!

Not a Vampire; not a poor harassed creature doomed to terrible woe, but a

splendid woman, brave beyond belief, patriotic in a way which has but few

peers even in the wide history of bravery! I began to understand the

true meaning of the strange occurrences that have come into my life.

Even the origin and purpose of that first strange visit to my room became

clear. No wonder that the girl could move about the Castle in so

mysterious a manner. She had lived there all her life, and was familiar

with the secret ways of entrance and exit. I had always believed that

the place must have been honeycombed with secret passages. No wonder

that she could find a way to the battlements, mysterious to everybody

else. No wonder that she could meet me at the Flagstaff when she so

desired.

To say that I was in a tumult would be to but faintly express my

condition. I was rapt into a heaven of delight which had no measure in

all my adventurous life--the lifting of the veil which showed that my

wife--mine--won in all sincerity in the very teeth of appalling

difficulties and dangers--was no Vampire, no corpse, no ghost or phantom,

but a real woman of flesh and blood, of affection, and love, and passion.

Now at last would my love be crowned indeed when, having rescued her from

the marauders, I should bear her to my own home, where she would live and

reign in peace and comfort and honour, and in love and wifely happiness

if I could achieve such a blessing for her--and for myself.

But here a dreadful thought flashed across me, which in an instant turned

my joy to despair, my throbbing heart to ice:

"As she is a real woman, she is in greater danger than ever in the hands

of Turkish ruffians. To them a woman is in any case no more than a

sheep; and if they cannot bring her to the harem of the Sultan, they may

deem it the next wisest step to kill her. In that way, too, they might

find a better chance of escape. Once rid of her the party could

separate, and there might be a chance of some of them finding escape as

individuals that would not exist for a party. But even if they did not

kill her, to escape with her would be to condemn her to the worst fate of

all the harem of the Turk! Lifelong misery and despair--however long

that life might be--must be the lot of a Christian woman doomed to such a

lot. And to her, just happily wedded, and after she had served her

country in such a noble way as she had done, that dreadful life of

shameful slavery would be a misery beyond belief.

"She must be rescued--and quickly! The marauders must be caught soon,

and suddenly, so that they may have neither time nor opportunity to harm

her, as they would be certain to do if they have warning of immediate

danger.

"On! on!"

And "on" it was all through that terrible night as well as we could

through the forest.

It was a race between the mountaineers and myself as to who should be

first. I understood now the feeling that animated them, and which

singled them out even from amongst their fiery comrades, when the danger

of the Voivodin became known. These men were no mean contestants even in

such a race, and, strong as I am, it took my utmost effort to keep ahead

of them. They were keen as leopards, and as swift. Their lives had been

spent among the mountains, and their hearts and souls on were in the

chase. I doubt not that if the death of any one of us could have through

any means effected my wife's release, we should, if necessary, have

fought amongst ourselves for the honour.

From the nature of the work before us our party had to keep to the top of

the hills. We had not only to keep observation on the flying party whom

we followed, and to prevent them making discovery of us, but we had to be

always in a position to receive and answer signals made to us from the

Castle, or sent to us from other eminences.

Letter from Petrof Vlastimir, Archimandrite of Spazac, to the Lady

Janet MacKelpie, of Vissarion.

Written July 8, 1907.

GREAT LADY,

I am asked to write by the Vladika, and have permission of the

Archbishop. I have the honour of transmitting to you the record of

the pursuit of the Turkish spies who carried off the Voivodin Teuta,

of the noble House of Vissarion. The pursuit was undertaken by the

Gospodar Rupert, who asked that I would come with his party, since

what he was so good as to call my "great knowledge of the country and

its people" might serve much. It is true that I have had much

knowledge of the Land of the Blue Mountains and its people, amongst

which and whom my whole life has been passed. But in such a cause no

reason was required. There was not a man in the Blue Mountains who

would not have given his life for the Voivodin Teuta, and when they

heard that she had not been dead, as they thought, but only in a

trance, and that it was she whom the marauders had carried off, they

were in a frenzy. So why should I--to whom has been given the great

trust of the Monastery of Spazac--hesitate at such a time? For

myself, I wanted to hurry on, and to come at once to the fight with

my country's foes; and well I knew that the Gospodar Rupert, with a

lion's heart meet for his giant body, would press on with a matchless

speed. We of the Blue Mountains do not lag when our foes are in

front of us; most of all do we of the Eastern Church press on when

the Crescent wars against the Cross!

We took with us no gear or hamper of any kind; no coverings except

what we stood in; no food--nothing but our handjars and our rifles,

with a sufficiency of ammunition. Before starting, the Gospodar gave

hurried orders by signal from the Castle to have food and ammunition

sent to us (as we might signal) by the nearest hamlet.

It was high noon when we started, only ten strong--for our leader

would take none but approved runners who could shoot straight and use

the handjar as it should be used. So as we went light, we expected

to go fast. By this time we knew from the reports signalled to

Vissarion that the enemies were chosen men of no despicable prowess.

The Keeper of the Green Flag of Islam is well served, and as though

the Turk is an infidel and a dog, he is sometimes brave and strong.

Indeed, except when he passes the confines of the Blue Mountains, he

has been known to do stirring deeds. But as none who have dared to

wander in amongst our hills ever return to their own land, we may not

know of how they speak at home of their battles here. Still, these

men were evidently not to be despised; and our Gospodar, who is a

wise man as well as a valiant, warned us to be prudent, and not to

despise our foes over much. We did as he counselled, and in proof we

only took ten men, as we had only twenty against us. But then there

was at stake much beyond life, and we took no risks. So, as the

great clock at Vissarion clanged of noon, the eight fastest runners

of the Blue Mountains, together with the Gospodar Rupert and myself,

swept out on our journey. It had been signalled to us that the

course which the marauders had as yet taken in their flight was a

zigzag one, running eccentrically at all sorts of angles in all sorts

of directions. But our leader had marked out a course where we might

intercept our foes across the main line of their flight; and till we

had reached that region we paused not a second, but went as fast as

we could all night long. Indeed, it was amongst us a race as was the

Olympic race of old Greece, each one vying with his fellows, though

not in jealous emulation, but in high spirit, to best serve his

country and the Voivodin Teuta. Foremost amongst us went the

Gospodar, bearing himself as a Paladin of old, his mighty form

pausing for no obstacle. Perpetually did he urge us on. He would

not stop or pause for a moment, but often as he and I ran

together--for, lady, in my youth I was the fleetest of all in the

race, and even that now can head a battalion when duty calls--he

would ask me certain questions as to the Lady Teuta and of the

strange manner of her reputed death, as it was gradually unfolded in

my answers to his questioning. And as each new phase of knowledge

came to him, he would rush on as one possessed of fiends: whereat our

mountaineers, who seem to respect even fiends for their thoroughness,

would strive to keep pace with him till they too seemed worked into

diabolic possession. And I myself, left alone in the calmness of

sacerdotal office, forgot even that. With surging ears and eyes that

saw blood, I rushed along with best of them.

Then truly the spirit of a great captain showed itself in the

Gospodar, for when others were charged with fury he began to force

himself into calm, so that out of his present self-command and the

memory of his exalted position came a worthy strategy and thought for

every contingency that might arise. So that when some new direction

was required for our guidance, there was no hesitation in its coming.

We, nine men of varying kinds, all felt that we had a master; and so,

being willing to limit ourselves to strict obedience, we were free to

use such thoughts as well as such powers as we had to the best

advantage of the doing.

We came across the trail of the flying marauders on the second

morning after the abduction, a little before noon. It was easy

enough to see, for by this time the miscreants were all together, and

our people, who were woodlanders, were able to tell much of the party

that passed. These were evidently in a terrified hurry, for they had

taken no precautions such as are necessary baffle pursuit, and all of

which take time. Our foresters said that two went ahead and two

behind. In the centre went the mass, moving close together, as

though surrounding their prisoner. We caught not even a single

glimpse her--could not have, they encompassed her so closely. But

our foresters saw other than the mass; the ground that had been

passed was before them. They knew that the prisoner had gone

unwillingly--nay, more: one of them said as he rose from his knees,

where he had been examining of the ground:

"The misbegotten dogs have been urging her on with their yataghans!

There are drops of blood, though there are no blood-marks on her

feet."

Whereupon the Gospodar flamed with passion. His teeth ground

together, and with a deep-breathed "On, on!" he sprang off again,

handjar in hand, on the track.

Before long we saw the party in the distance. They this were far

below us in a deep valley, although the track of their going passed

away to the right hand. They were making for the base of the great

cliff, which rose before us all. Their reason was twofold, as we

soon knew. Far off down the valley which they were crossing we saw

signs of persons coming in haste, who must be of the search party

coming from the north. Though the trees hid them, we could not

mistake the signs. I was myself forester enough to have no doubt.

Again, it was evident that the young Voivodin could travel no longer

at the dreadful pace at which they had been going. Those blood-marks

told their own tale! They meant to make a last stand here in case

they should be discovered.

Then it was that he, who amongst us all had been most fierce and most

bent on rapid pursuit, became the most the calm. Raising his hand

for silence--though, God knows, we were and had been silent enough

during that long rush through the forest--he said, in a low, keen

whisper which cut the silence like a knife:

"My friends, the time is come for action. God be thanked, who has

now brought us face to face with our foes! But we must be careful

here--not on our own account, for we wish nothing more than to rush

on and conquer or die--but for the sake of her whom you love, and

whom I, too, love. She is in danger from anything which may give

warning to those fiends. If they know or even suspect for an instant

that we are near, they will murder her . . . "

Here his voice broke for an instant with the extremity of his passion

or the depth of his feeling--I hardly know which; I think both acted

on him.

"We know from those blood-marks what they can do--even to her." His

teeth ground together again, but he went on without stopping further:

"Let us arrange the battle. Though we are but little distance from

them as the crow flies, the way is far to travel. There is, I can

see, but one path down to the valley from this side. That they have

gone by, and that they will sure to guard--to watch, at any rate.

Let us divide, as to surround them. The cliff towards which they

make runs far to the left without a break. That to the right we

cannot see from this spot; but from the nature of the ground it is

not unlikely that it turns round in this direction, making the hither

end of the valley like a vast pocket or amphitheatre. As they have

studied the ground in other places, they may have done so in this,

and have come hither as to a known refuge. Let one man, a marksman,

stay here."

As he spoke a man stepped to the front. He was, I knew, an excellent

shot.

"Let two others go to the left and try to find a way down the cliff

before us. When they have descended to the level of the valley--path

or no path--let them advance cautiously and secretly, keeping their

guns in readiness. But they must not fire till need. Remember, my

brothers," said, turning to those who stepped out a pace or two to

the left, "that the first shot gives the warning which will be the

signal for the Voivodin's death. These men will not hesitate. You

must judge yourselves of the time to shoot. The others of us will

move to the right and try to find a path on that side. If the valley

be indeed a pocket between the cliffs, we must find a way down that

is not a path!"

As he spoke thus there was a blaze in his eyes that betokened no good

to aught that might stand in his way. I ran by his side as we moved

to the right.

It was as he surmised about the cliff. When we got a little on our

way we saw how the rocky formation trended to our right, till,

finally, with a wide curve, it came round to the other side.

It was a fearful valley that, with its narrow girth and its towering

walls that seemed to topple over. On the farther side from us the

great trees that clothed the slope of the mountain over it grew down

to the very edge of the rock, so that their spreading branches hung

far over the chasm. And, so far as we could understand, the same

condition existed on our own side. Below us the valley was dark even

in the daylight. We could best tell the movement of the flying

marauders by the flashes of the white shroud of their captive in the

midst of them.

From where we were grouped, amid the great tree-trunks on the very

brow of the cliff, we could, when our eyes were accustomed to the

shadow, see them quite well. In great haste, and half dragging, half

carrying the Voivodin, they crossed the open space and took refuge in

a little grassy alcove surrounded, save for its tortuous entrance, by

undergrowth. From the valley level it was manifestly impossible to

see them, though we from our altitude could see over the stunted

undergrowth. When within the glade, they took their hands from her.

She, shuddering instinctively, withdrew to a remote corner of the

dell.

And then, oh, shame on their manhood!--Turks and heathens though they

were--we could see that they had submitted her to the indignity of

gagging her and binding her hands!

Our Voivodin Teuta bound! To one and all of us it was like lashing

us across the face. I heard the Gospodar's teeth grind again. But

once more he schooled himself to calmness ere he said:

"It is, perhaps, as well, great though the indignity be. They are

seeking their own doom, which is coming quickly . . . Moreover, they

are thwarting their own base plans. Now that she is bound they will

trust to their binding, so that they will delay their murderous

alternative to the very last moment. Such is our chance of rescuing

her alive!"

For a few moments he stood as still as a stone, as though revolving

something in his mind whilst he watched. I could see that some grim

resolution was forming in his mind, for his eyes ranged to the top of

the trees above cliff, and down again, very slowly this time, as

though measuring and studying the detail of what was in front of him.

Then he spoke:

"They are in hopes that the other pursuing party may not come across

them. To know that, they are waiting. If those others do not come

up the valley, they will proceed on their way. They will return up

the path the way they came. There we can wait them, charge into the

middle of them when she is opposite, and cut down those around her.

Then the others will open fire, and we shall be rid of them!

Whilst he was speaking, two of the men of our party, who I knew to be

good sharpshooters, and who had just before lain on their faces and

had steadied their rifles to shoot, rose to their feet.

"Command us, Gospodar!" they said simply, as they stood to attention.

"Shall we go to the head of the ravine road and there take hiding?"

He thought for perhaps a minute, whilst we all stood as silent as

images. I could hear our hearts beating. Then he said:

"No, not yet. There is time for that yet. They will not--cannot

stir or make plans in any way till they know whether the other party

is coming towards them or not. From our height here we can see what

course the others are taking long before those villains do. Then we

can make our plans and be ready in time."

We waited many minutes, but could see no further signs the other

pursuing party. These had evidently adopted greater caution in their

movements as they came closer to where they expected to find the

enemy. The marauders began to grow anxious. Even at our distance we

could gather as much from their attitude and movements.

Presently, when the suspense of their ignorance grew too much for

them, they drew to the entrance of the glade, which was the farthest

place to which, without exposing themselves to anyone who might come

to the valley, they could withdraw from their captive. Here they

consulted together. We could follow from their gestures what they

were saying, for as they did not wish their prisoner to hear, their

gesticulation was enlightening to us as to each other. Our people,

like all mountaineers, have good eyes, and the Gospodar is himself an

eagle in this as in other ways. Three men stood back from the rest.

They stacked their rifles so that they could seize them easily. Then

they drew their scimitars, and stood ready, as though on guard.

These were evidently the appointed murderers. Well they knew their

work; for though they stood in a desert place with none within long

distance except the pursuing party, of whose approach they would have

good notice, they stood so close to their prisoner that no marksman

in the world--now or that ever had been; not William Tell

himself--could have harmed any of them without at least endangering

her. Two of them turned the Voivodin round so that her face was

towards the precipice--in which position she could not see what was

going on--whilst he who was evidently leader of the gang explained,

in gesture, that the others were going to spy upon the pursuing

party. When they had located them he, or one of his men, would come

out of the opening of the wood wherein they had had evidence of them,

and hold up his hand.

That was to be the signal for the cutting of the victim's

throat--such being the chosen method (villainous even for heathen

murderers) of her death. There was not one of our men who did not

grind his teeth when we witnessed the grim action, only too

expressive, of the Turk as he drew his right hand, clenched as though

he held a yataghan in it, across his throat.

At the opening of the glade all the spying party halted whilst the

leader appointed to each his place of entry of the wood, the front of

which extended in an almost straight across the valley from cliff to

cliff.

The men, stooping low when in the open, and taking instant advantage

of every little obstacle on the ground, seemed to fade like spectres

with incredible swiftness across the level mead, and were swallowed

up in the wood.

When they had disappeared the Gospodar Rupert revealed to us the

details of the plan of action which he had revolving in his mind. He

motioned us to follow him: we threaded a way between the tree-trunks,

keeping all the while on the very edge of the cliff, so that the

space below was all visible to us. When we had got round the curve

sufficiently to see the whole of the wood on the valley level,

without losing sight of the Voivodin and her appointed assassins, we

halted under his direction. There was an added advantage of this

point over the other, for we could see directly the rising of the

hill-road, up which farther side ran the continuation of the mountain

path which the marauders had followed. It was somewhere on that path

that the other pursuing party had hoped to intercept the fugitives.

The Gospodar spoke quickly, though in a voice of command which true

soldiers love to hear:

"Brothers, the time has come when we can strike a blow for Teuta and

the Land. Do you two, marksmen, take position here facing the wood."

The two men here lay down and got their rifles ready. "Divide the

frontage of the wood between you; arrange between yourselves the

limits of your positions. The very instant one of the marauders

appears, cover him; drop him before he emerges from the wood. Even

then still watch and treat similarly whoever else may take his place.

Do this if they come singly till not a man is left. Remember,

brothers, that brave hearts alone will not suffice at this grim

crisis. In this hour the best safety of the Voivodin is in the calm

spirit and the steady eye!" Then he turned to the rest of us, and

spoke to me:

"Archimandrite of Plazac, you who are interpreter to God of the

prayers of so many souls, my own hour has come. If I do not return,

convey my love to my Aunt Janet--Miss MacKelpie, at Vissarion. There

is but one thing left to us if we wish to save the Voivodin. Do you,

when the time comes, take these men and join the watcher at the top

of the ravine road. When the shots are fired, do you out handjar,

and rush the ravine and across the valley. Brothers, you may be in

time to avenge the Voivodin, if you cannot save her. For me there

must be a quicker way, and to it I go. As there is not, and will not

be, time to traverse the path, I must take a quicker way. Nature

finds me a path that man has made it necessary for me to travel. See

that giant beech-tree that towers above the glade where the Voivodin

is held? There is my path! When you from here have marked the

return of the spies, give me a signal with your hat--do not use a

handkerchief, as others might see its white, and take warning. Then

rush that ravine. I shall take that as the signal for my descent by

the leafy road. If I can do naught else, I can crush the murderers

with my falling weight, even if I have to kill her too. At least we

shall die together--and free. Lay us together in the tomb at St.

Sava's. Farewell, if it be the last!"

He threw down the scabbard in which he carried his handjar, adjusted

the naked weapon in his belt behind his back, and was gone!

We who were not watching the wood kept our eyes fixed on the great

beech-tree, and with new interest noticed the long trailing branches

which hung low, and swayed even in the gentle breeze. For a few

minutes, which seemed amazingly long, we saw no sign of him. Then,

high up on one of the great branches which stood clear of obscuring

leaves, we saw something crawling flat against the bark. He was well

out on the branch, hanging far over the precipice. He was looking

over at us, and I waved my hand so that he should know we saw him.

He was clad in green--his usual forest dress--so that there was not

any likelihood of any other eyes noticing him. I took off my hat,

and held it ready to signal with when the time should come. I

glanced down at the glade and saw the Voivodin standing, still safe,

with her guards so close to her as to touch. Then I, too, fixed my

eyes on the wood.

Suddenly the man standing beside me seized my arm and pointed. I

could just see through the trees, which were lower than elsewhere in

the front of the wood, a Turk moving stealthily; so I waved my hat.

At the same time a rifle underneath me cracked. A second or two

later the spy pitched forward on his face and lay still. At the same

instant my eyes sought the beech-tree, and I saw the close-lying

figure raise itself and slide forward to a joint of the branch. Then

the Gospodar, as he rose, hurled himself forward amid the mass of the

trailing branches. He dropped like a stone, and my heart sank.

But an instant later he seemed in poise. He had clutched the thin,

trailing branches as he fell; and as he sank a number of leaves which

his motion had torn off floated out round him.

Again the rifle below me cracked, and then again, and again, and

again. The marauders had taken warning, and were coming out in mass.

But my own eyes were fixed on the tree. Almost as a thunderbolt

falls fell the giant body of the Gospodar, his size lost in the

immensity of his surroundings. He fell in a series of jerks, as he

kept clutching the trailing beech-branches whilst they lasted, and

then other lesser verdure growing out from the fissures in the rock

after the lengthening branches had with all their elasticity reached

their last point.

At length--for though this all took place in a very few seconds the

gravity of the crisis prolonged them immeasurably--there came a large

space of rock some three times his own length. He did not pause, but

swung himself to one side, so that he should fall close to the

Voivodin and her guards. These men did not seem to notice, for their

attention was fixed on the wood whence they expected their messenger

to signal. But they raised their yataghans in readiness. The shots

had alarmed them; and they meant to do the murder now--messenger or

no messenger

But though the men did not see the danger from above, the Voivodin

did. She raised her eyes quickly at the first sound, and even from

where we were, before we began to run towards the ravine path, I

could see the triumphant look in her glorious eyes when she

recognized the identity of the man who was seemingly coming straight

down from Heaven itself to help her--as, indeed, she, and we too, can

very well imagine that he did; for if ever heaven had a hand in a

rescue on earth, it was now.

Even during the last drop from the rocky foliage the Gospodar kept

his head. As he fell he pulled his handjar free, and almost as he

was falling its sweep took off the head of one of the assassins. As

he touched ground he stumbled for an instant, but it was towards his

enemies. Twice with lightning rapidity the handjar swept the air,

and at each sweep a head rolled on the sward.

The Voivodin held up her tied hands. Again the handjar flashed, this

time downwards, and the lady was free. Without an instant's pause

the Gospodar tore off the gag, and with his left arm round her and

handjar in right hand, stood face toward his living foes. The

Voivodin stooped suddenly, and then, raising the yataghan which had

fallen from the hand of one of the dead marauders, stood armed beside

him.

The rifles were now cracking fast, as the marauders--those that were

left of them--came rushing out into the open. But well the marksmen

knew their work. Well they bore in mind the Gospodar's command

regarding calmness. They kept picking off the foremost men only, so

that the onward rush never seemed to get more forward.

As we rushed down the ravine we could see clearly all before us. But

now, just as we were beginning to fear lest some mischance might

allow some of them to reach the glade, there was another cause of

surprise--of rejoicing.

From the face of the wood seemed to burst all at once a body of men,

all wearing the national cap, so we knew them as our own. They were

all armed with the handjar only, and they came like tigers. They

swept on the rushing Turks as though, for all their swiftness, they

were standing still--literally wiping them out as a child wipes a

lesson from its slate.

A few seconds later these were followed by a tall figure with long

hair and beard of black mingled with grey. Instinctively we all, as

did those in the valley, shouted with joy. For this was the Vladika

Milosh Plamenac himself.

I confess that, knowing what I knew, I was for a short space of time

anxious lest, in the terrific excitement in which we were all lapped,

someone might say or do something which might make for trouble later

on. The Gospodar's splendid achievement, which was worthy of any

hero of old romance, had set us all on fire. He himself must have

been wrought to a high pitch of excitement to dare such an act; and

it is not at such a time that discretion must be expected from any

man. Most of all did I fear danger from the womanhood of the

Voivodin. Had I not assisted at her marriage, I might not have

understood then what it must have been to her to be saved from such a

doom at such a time by such a man, who was so much to her, and in

such a way. It would have been only natural if at such a moment of

gratitude and triumph she had proclaimed the secret which we of the

Council of the Nation and her father's Commissioners had so

religiously kept. But none of us knew then either the Voivodin or

the Gospodar Rupert as we do now. It was well that they were as they

are, for the jealousy and suspicion of our mountaineers might, even

at such a moment, and even whilst they throbbed at such a deed, have

so manifested themselves as to have left a legacy of distrust. The

Vladika and I, who of all (save the two immediately concerned) alone

knew, looked at each other apprehensively. But at that instant the

Voivodin, with a swift glance at her husband, laid a finger on her

lip; and he, with quick understanding, gave assurance by a similar

sign. Then she sank before him on one knee, and, raising his hand to

her lips, kissed it, and spoke:

"Gospodar Rupert, I owe you all that a woman may owe, except to God.

You have given me life and honour! I cannot thank you adequately for

what you have done; my father will try to do so when he returns. But

I am right sure that the men of the Blue Mountains, who so value

honour, and freedom, and liberty, and bravery, will hold you in their

hearts for ever!"

This was so sweetly spoken, with lips that trembled and eyes that

swam in tears, so truly womanly and so in accord with the custom of

our nation regarding the reverence that women owe to men, that the

hearts of our mountaineers were touched to the quick. Their noble

simplicity found expression in tears. But if the gallant Gospodar

could have for a moment thought that so to weep was unmanly, his

error would have had instant correction. When the Voivodin had risen

to her feet, which she did with queenly dignity, the men around

closed in on the Gospodar like a wave of the sea, and in a second

held him above their heads, tossing on their lifted hands as if on

stormy breakers. It was as though the old Vikings of whom we have

heard, and whose blood flows in Rupert's veins, were choosing a chief

in old fashion. I was myself glad that the men were so taken up with

the Gospodar that they did not see the glory of the moment in the

Voivodin's starry eyes; for else they might have guessed the secret.

I knew from the Vladika's look that he shared my own satisfaction,

even as he had shared my anxiety.

As the Gospodar Rupert was tossed high on the lifted hands of the

mountaineers, their shouts rose to such a sudden volume that around

us, as far as I could see, the frightened birds rose from the forest,

and their noisy alarm swelled the tumult.

The Gospodar, ever thoughtful for others, was the first to calm

himself.

"Come, brothers," he said, "let us gain the hilltop, where we can

signal to the Castle. It is right that the whole nation should share

in the glad tidings that the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion is free.

But before we go, let us remove the arms and clothing of these

carrion marauders. We may have use for them later on."

The mountaineers set him down, gently enough. And he, taking the

Voivodin by the hand, and calling the Vladika and myself close to

them, led the way up the ravine path which the marauders had

descended, and thence through the forest to the top of the hill that

dominated the valley. Here we could, from an opening amongst the

trees, catch a glimpse far off of the battlements of Vissarion.

Forthwith the Gospodar signalled; and on the moment a reply of their

awaiting was given. Then the Gospodar signalled the glad news. It

was received with manifest rejoicing. We could not hear any sound so

far away, but we could see the movement of lifted faces and waving

hands, and knew that it was well. But an instant after came a calm

so dread that we knew before the semaphore had begun to work that

there was bad news in store for us. When the news did come, a bitter

wailing arose amongst us; for the news that was signalled ran:

"The Voivode has been captured by the Turks on his return, and is

held by them at Ilsin."

In an instant the temper of the mountaineers changed. It was as

though by a flash summer had changed to winter, as though the yellow

glory of the standing corn had been obliterated by the dreary waste

of snow. Nay, more: it was as when one beholds the track of the

whirlwind when the giants of the forest are levelled with the sward.

For a few seconds there was silence; and then, with an angry roar, as

when God speaks in the thunder, came the fierce determination of the

men of the Blue Mountains:

"To Ilsin! To Ilsin!" and a stampede in the direction of the south

began. For, Illustrious Lady, you, perhaps, who have been for so

short a time at Vissarion, may not know that at the extreme southern

point of the Land of the Blue Mountains lies the little port of

Ilsin, which long ago we wrested from the Turk.

The stampede was checked by the command, "Halt!" spoken in a

thunderous voice by the Gospodar. Instinctively all stopped. The

Gospodar Rupert spoke again:

"Had we not better know a little more before we start on our journey?

I shall get by semaphore what details are known. Do you all proceed

in silence and as swiftly as possible. The Vladika and I will wait

here till we have received the news and have sent some instructions,

when we shall follow, and, if we can, overtake you. One thing: be

absolutely silent on what has been. Be secret of every detail--even

as to the rescue of the Voivodin--except what I send."

Without a word--thus showing immeasurable trust--the whole body--not

a very large one, it is true--moved on, and the Gospodar began

signalling. As I was myself expert in the code, I did not require

any explanation, but followed question and answer on either side.

The first words the Gospodar Rupert signalled were:

"Silence, absolute and profound, as to everything which has been."

Then he asked for details of the capture of the Voivode. The answer

ran:

"He was followed from Flushing, and his enemies advised by the spies

all along the route. At Ragusa quite a number of

strangers--travellers seemingly--went on board the packet. When he

got out, the strangers debarked too, and evidently followed him,

though, as yet, we have no details. He disappeared at Ilsin from the

Hotel Reo, whither he had gone. All possible steps are being taken

to trace his movements, and strictest silence and secrecy are

observed."

His answer was:

"Good! Keep silent and secret. Am hurrying back. Signal request to

Archbishop and all members of National Council to come to Gadaar with

all speed. There the yacht will meet him. Tell Rooke take yacht all

speed to Gadaar; there meet Archbishop and Council--give him list of

names--and return full speed. Have ready plenty arms, six flying

artillery. Two hundred men, provisions three days. Silence,

silence. All depends on that. All to go on as usual at Castle,

except to those in secret."

When the receipt of his message had been signalled, we three--for, of

course, the Voivodin was with us; she had refused to leave the

Gospodar--set out hot-foot after our comrades. But by the time we

had descended the hill it was evident that the Voivodin could not

keep up the terrific pace at which we were going. She struggled

heroically, but the long journey she had already taken, and the

hardship and anxiety she had suffered, had told on her. The Gospodar

stopped, and said that it would be better that he should press on--it

was, perhaps, her father's life--and said he would carry her.

"No, no!" she answered. "Go on! I shall follow with the Vladika.

And then you can have things ready to get on soon after the

Archbishop and Council arrive." They kissed each other after, on her

part, a shy glance at me; and he went on the track of our comrades at

a great pace. I could see him shortly after catch them up,--though

they, too, were going fast. For a few minutes they ran together, he

speaking--I could note it from the way they kept turning their heads

towards him. Then he broke away from them hurriedly. He went like a

stag breaking covert, and was soon out of sight. They halted a

moment or two. Then some few ran on, and all the rest came back

towards us. Quickly they improvised a litter with cords and

branches, and insisted that the Voivodin should use it. In an

incredibly short time we were under way again, and proceeding with

great rapidity towards Vissarion. The men took it in turns to help

with the litter; I had the honour of taking a hand in the work

myself.

About a third of the way out from Vissarion a number of our people

met us. They were fresh, and as they carried the litter, we who were

relieved were free for speed. So we soon arrived at the Castle.

Here we found all humming like a hive of bees. The yacht, which

Captain Rooke had kept fired ever since the pursuing party under the

Gospodar had left Vissarion, was already away, and tearing up the

coast at a fearful rate. The rifles and ammunition were stacked on

the quay. The field-guns, too, were equipped, and the cases of

ammunition ready to ship. The men, two hundred of them, were paraded

in full kit, ready to start at a moment's notice. The provision for

three days was all ready to put aboard, and barrels of fresh water to

trundle aboard when the yacht should return. At one end of the quay,

ready to lift on board, stood also the Gospodar's aeroplane, fully

equipped, and ready, if need were, for immediate flight.

I was glad to see that the Voivodin seemed none the worse for her

terrible experience. She still wore her shroud; but no one seemed to

notice it as anything strange. The whisper had evidently gone round

of what had been. But discretion ruled the day. She and the

Gospodar met as two who had served and suffered in common; but I was

glad to notice that both kept themselves under such control that none

of those not already in the secret even suspected that there was any

love between them, let alone marriage.

We all waited with what patience we could till word was signalled

from the Castle tower that the yacht had appeared over the northern

horizon, and was coming down fast, keeping inshore as she came.

When she arrived, we heard to our joy that all concerned had done

their work well. The Archbishop was aboard, and of the National

Council not one was missing. The Gospodar hurried them all into the

great hall of the Castle, which had in the meantime been got ready.

I, too, went with him, but the Voivodin remained without.

When all were seated, he rose and said:

"My Lord Archbishop, Vladika, and Lords of the Council all, I have

dared to summon you in this way because time presses, and the life of

one you all love--the Voivode Vissarion--is at stake. This audacious

attempt of the Turk is the old aggression under a new form. It is a

new and more daring step than ever to try to capture your chief and

his daughter, the Voivodin, whom you love. Happily, the latter part

of the scheme is frustrated. The Voivodin is safe and amongst us.

But the Voivode is held prisoner--if, indeed, he be still alive. He

must be somewhere near Ilsin--but where exactly we know not as yet.

We have an expedition ready to start the moment we receive your

sanction--your commands. We shall obey your wishes with our lives.

But as the matter is instant, I would venture to ask one question,

and one only: 'Shall we rescue the Voivode at any cost that may

present itself?' I ask this, for the matter has now become an

international one, and, if our enemies are as earnest as we are, the

issue is war!"

Having so spoken, and with a dignity and force which is

inexpressible, he withdrew; and the Council, having appointed a

scribe--the monk Cristoferos, whom I had suggested--began its work.

The Archbishop spoke:

"Lords of the Council of the Blue Mountains, I venture to ask you

that the answer to the Gospodar Rupert be an instant 'Yes!' together

with thanks and honour to that gallant Englisher, who has made our

cause his own, and who has so valiantly rescued our beloved Voivodin

from the ruthless hands of our enemies." Forthwith the oldest member

of the Council--Nicolos of Volok--rose, and, after throwing a

searching look round the faces of all, and seeing grave nods of

assent--for not a word was spoken--said to him who held the door:

"Summon the Gospodar Rupert forthwith!" When Rupert entered, he

spoke to him:

"Gospodar Rupert, the Council of the Blue Mountains has only one

answer to give: Proceed! Rescue the Voivode Vissarion, whatever the

cost may be! You hold henceforth in your hand the handjar of our

nation, as already, for what you have done in your valiant rescue of

our beloved Voivodin, your breast holds the heart of our people.

Proceed at once! We give you, I fear, little time; but we know that

such is your own wish. Later, we shall issue formal authorization,

so that if war may ensue, our allies may understand that you have

acted for the nation, and also such letters credential as may be

required by you in this exceptional service. These shall follow you

within an hour. For our enemies we take no account. See, we draw

the handjar that we offer you." As one man all in the hall drew

their handjars, which flashed as a blaze of lightning.

There did not seem to be an instant's delay. The Council broke up,

and its members, mingling with the people without, took active part

in the preparations. Not many minutes had elapsed when the yacht,

manned and armed and stored as arranged, was rushing out of the

creek. On the bridge, beside Captain Rooke, stood the Gospodar

Rupert and the still-shrouded form of the Voivodin Teuta. I myself

was on the lower deck with the soldiers, explaining to certain of

them the special duties which they might be called on to fulfil. I

held the list which the Gospodar Rupert had prepared whilst we were

waiting for the yacht to arrive from Gadaar.

PETROF VLASTIMIR.

FROM RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.

July 9, 1907.

We went at a terrific pace down the coast, keeping well inshore so as to

avoid, if possible, being seen from the south. Just north of Ilsin a

rocky headland juts out, and that was our cover. On the north of the

peninsula is a small land-locked bay, with deep water. It is large

enough to take the yacht, though a much larger vessel could not safely

enter. We ran in, and anchored close to the shore, which has a rocky

frontage--a natural shelf of rock, which is practically the same as a

quay. Here we met the men who had come from Ilsin and the neighbourhood

in answer to our signalling earlier in the day. They gave us the latest

information regarding the kidnapping of the Voivode, and informed us that

every man in that section of the country was simply aflame about it.

They assured us that we could rely on them, not merely to fight to the

death, but to keep silence absolutely. Whilst the seamen, under the

direction of Rooke, took the aeroplane on shore and found a suitable

place for it, where it was hidden from casual view, but from which it

could be easily launched, the Vladika and I--and, of course, my

wife--were hearing such details as were known of the disappearance of her

father.

It seems that he travelled secretly in order to avoid just such a

possibility as has happened. No one knew of his coming till he came to

Fiume, whence he sent a guarded message to the Archbishop, which the

latter alone would understand. But this Turkish agents were evidently on

his track all the time, and doubtless the Bureau of Spies was kept well

advised. He landed at Ilsin from a coasting steamer from Ragusa to the

Levant.

For two days before his coming there had been quite an unusual number of

arrivals at the little port, at which arrivals are rare. And it turned

out that the little hotel--the only fairly good one in Ilsin--was almost

filled up. Indeed, only one room was left, which the Voivode took for

the night. The innkeeper did not know the Voivode in his disguise, but

suspected who it was from the description. He dined quietly, and went to

bed. His room was at the back, on the ground-floor, looking out on the

bank of the little River Silva, which here runs into the harbour. No

disturbance was heard in the night. Late in the morning, when the

elderly stranger had not made his appearance, inquiry was made at his

door. He did not answer, so presently the landlord forced the door, and

found the room empty. His luggage was seemingly intact, only the clothes

which he had worn were gone. A strange thing was that, though the bed

had been slept in and his clothes were gone, his night-clothes were not

to be found, from which it was argued by the local authorities, when they

came to make inquiry, that he had gone or been taken from the room in his

night-gear, and that his clothes had been taken with him. There was

evidently some grim suspicion on the part of the authorities, for they

had commanded absolute silence on all in the house. When they came to

make inquiry as to the other guests, it was found that one and all had

gone in the course of the morning, after paying their bills. None of

them had any heavy luggage, and there was nothing remaining by which they

might be traced or which would afford any clue to their identity. The

authorities, having sent a confidential report to the seat of government,

continued their inquiries, and even now all available hands were at work

on the investigation. When I had signalled to Vissarion, before my

arrival there, word had been sent through the priesthood to enlist in the

investigation the services of all good men, so that every foot of ground

in that section of the Blue Mountains was being investigated. The

port-master was assured by his watchmen that no vessel, large or small,

had heft the harbour during the night. The inference, therefore, was

that the Voivode's captors had made inland with him--if, indeed, they

were not already secreted in or near the town.

Whilst we were receiving the various reports, a hurried message came that

it was now believed that the whole party were in the Silent Tower. This

was a well-chosen place for such an enterprise. It was a massive tower

of immense strength, built as a memorial--and also as a "keep"--after one

of the massacres of the invading Turks.

It stood on the summit of a rocky knoll some ten miles inland from the

Port of Ilsin. It was a place shunned as a rule, and the country all

around it was so arid and desolate that there were no residents near it.

As it was kept for state use, and might be serviceable in time of war, it

was closed with massive iron doors, which were kept locked except upon

certain occasions. The keys were at the seat of government at Plazac.

If, therefore, it had been possible to the Turkish marauders to gain

entrance and exit, it might be a difficult as well as a dangerous task to

try to cut the Voivode out. His presence with them was a dangerous

menace to any force attacking them, for they would hold his life as a

threat.

I consulted with the Vladika at once as to what was best to be done. And

we decided that, though we should put a cordon of guards around it at a

safe distance to prevent them receiving warning, we should at present

make no attack.

We made further inquiry as to whether there had been any vessel seen in

the neighbourhood during the past few days, and were informed that once

or twice a warship had been seen on the near side of the southern

horizon. This was evidently the ship which Rooke had seen on his rush

down the coast after the abduction of the Voivodin, and which he had

identified as a Turkish vessel. The glimpses of her which had been had

were all in full daylight--there was no proof that she had not stolen up

during the night-time without lights. But the Vladika and I were

satisfied that the Turkish vessel was watching--was in league with both

parties of marauders--and was intended to take off any of the strangers,

or their prey, who might reach Ilsin undetected. It was evidently with

this view that the kidnappers of Teuta had, in the first instance, made

with all speed for the south. It was only when disappointed there that

they headed up north, seeking in desperation for some chance of crossing

the border. That ring of steel had so far well served its purpose.

I sent for Rooke, and put the matter before him. He had thought it out

for himself to the same end as we had. His deduction was:

"Let us keep the cordon, and watch for any signal from the Silent Tower.

The Turks will tire before we shall. I undertake to watch the Turkish

warship. During the night I shall run down south, without lights, and

have a look at her, even if I have to wait till the grey of the dawn to

do so. She may see us; but if she does I shall crawl away at such pace

that she shall not get any idea of our speed. She will certainly come

nearer before a day is over, for be sure the bureau of spies is kept

advised, and they know that when the country is awake each day increases

the hazard of them and their plans being discovered. From their caution

I gather that they do not court discovery; and from that that they do not

wish for an open declaration of war. If this be so, why should we not

come out to them and force an issue if need be?"

When Teuta and I got a chance to be alone, we discussed the situation in

every phase. The poor girl was in a dreadful state of anxiety regarding

her father's safety. At first she was hardly able to speak, or even to

think, coherently. Her utterance was choked, and her reasoning palsied

with indignation. But presently the fighting blood of her race restored

her faculties, and then her woman's quick wit was worth the reasoning of

a camp full of men. Seeing that she was all on fire with the subject, I

sat still and waited, taking care not to interrupt her. For quite a long

time she sat still, whilst the coming night thickened. When she spoke,

the whole plan of action, based on subtle thinking, had mapped itself out

in her mind:

"We must act quickly. Every hour increases the risk to my father." Here

her voice broke for an instant; but she recovered herself and went on:

"If you go to the ship, I must not go with you. It would not do for me

to be seen. The Captain doubtless knows of both attempts: that to carry

me off as well as that against my father. As yet he is in ignorance of

what has happened. You and your party of brave, loyal men did their work

so well that no news could go forth. So long, therefore, as the naval

Captain is ignorant, he must delay till the last. But if he saw me he

would know that that branch of the venture had miscarried. He would

gather from our being here that we had news of my father's capture, and

as he would know that the marauders would fail unless they were relieved

by force, he would order the captive to be slain."

"Yes, dear, to-morrow you had, perhaps, better see the Captain, but

to-night we must try to rescue my father. Here I think I see a way. You

have your aeroplane. Please take me with you into the Silent Tower."

"Not for a world of chrysolite!" said I, horrified. She took my hand and

held it tight whilst she went on:

"Dear, I know, I know! Be satisfied. But it is the only way. You can,

I know, get there, and in the dark. But if you were to go in it, it

would give warning to the enemies, and besides, my father would not

understand. Remember, he does not know you; he has never seen you, and

does not, I suppose, even know as yet of your existence. But he would

know me at once, and in any dress. You can manage to lower me into the

Tower by a rope from the aeroplane. The Turks as yet do not know of our

pursuit, and doubtless rely, at all events in part, on the strength and

security of the Tower. Therefore their guard will be less active than it

would at first or later on. I shall post father in all details, and we

shall be ready quickly. Now, dear, let us think out the scheme together.

Let your man's wit and experience help my ignorance, and we shall save my

father!"

How could I have resisted such pleading--even had it not seemed wise?

But wise it was; and I, who knew what the aeroplane could do under my own

guidance, saw at once the practicalities of the scheme. Of course there

was a dreadful risk in case anything should go wrong. But we are at

present living in a world of risks--and her father's life was at stake.

So I took my dear wife in my arms, and told her that my mind was hers for

this, as my soul and body already were. And I cheered her by saying that

I thought it might be done.

I sent for Rooke, and told him of the new adventure, and he quite agreed

with me in the wisdom of it. I then told him that he would have to go

and interview the Captain of the Turkish warship in the morning, if I did

not turn up. "I am going to see the Vladika," I said. "He will lead our

own troops in the attack on the Silent Tower. But it will rest with you

to deal with the warship. Ask the Captain to whom or what nation the

ship belongs. He is sure to refuse to tell. In such case mention to him

that if he flies no nation's flag, his vessel is a pirate ship, and that

you, who are in command of the navy of the Blue Mountains, will deal with

him as a pirate is dealt with--no quarter, no mercy. He will temporize,

and perhaps try a bluff; but when things get serious with him he will

land a force, or try to, and may even prepare to shell the town. He will

threaten to, at any rate. In such case deal with him as you think best,

or as near to it as you can." He answered:

"I shall carry out your wishes with my life. It is a righteous task.

Not that anything of that sort would ever stand in my way. If he attacks

our nation, either as a Turk or a pirate, I shall wipe him out. We shall

see what our own little packet can do. Moreover, any of the marauders

who have entered the Blue Mountains, from sea or otherwise, shall never

get out by sea! I take it that we of my contingent shall cover the

attacking party. It will be a sorry time for us all if that happens

without our seeing you and the Voivodin; for in such case we shall

understand the worst!" Iron as he was, the man trembled.

"That is so, Rooke," I said. "We are taking a desperate chance, we know.

But the case is desperate! But we all have our duty to do, whatever

happens. Ours and yours is stern; but when we have done it, the result

will be that life will be easier for others--for those that are left."

Before he left, I asked him to send up to me three suits of the Masterman

bullet-proof clothes of which we had a supply on the yacht.

"Two are for the Voivodin and myself," I said; "the third is for the

Voivode to put on. The Voivodin will take it with her when she descends

from the aeroplane into the Tower."

Whilst any daylight was left I went out to survey the ground. My wife

wanted to come with me, but I would not let her. "No," said I; "you will

have at the best a fearful tax on your strength and your nerves. You

will want to be as fresh as is possible when you get on the aeroplane."

Like a good wife, she obeyed, and lay down to rest in the little tent

provided for her.

I took with me a local man who knew the ground, and who was trusted to be

silent. We made a long detour when we had got as near the Silent Tower

as we could without being noticed. I made notes from my compass as to

directions, and took good notice of anything that could possibly serve as

a landmark. By the time we got home I was pretty well satisfied that if

all should go well I could easily sail over the Tower in the dark. Then

I had a talk with my wife, and gave her full instructions:

"When we arrive over the Tower," I said, "I shall lower you with a long

rope. You will have a parcel of food and spirit for your father in case

he is fatigued or faint; and, of course, the bullet-proof suit, which he

must put on at once. You will also have a short rope with a belt at

either end--one for your father, the other for you. When I turn the

aeroplane and come back again, you will have ready the ring which lies

midway between the belts. This you will catch into the hook at the end

of the lowered rope. When all is secure, and I have pulled you both up

by the windlass so as to clear the top, I shall throw out ballast which

we shall carry on purpose, and away we go! I am sorry it must be so

uncomfortable for you both, but there is no other way. When we get well

clear of the Tower, I shall take you both up on the platform. If

necessary, I shall descend to do it--and then we shall steer for Ilsin."

"When all is safe, our men will attack the Tower. We must let them do

it, for they expect it. A few men in the clothes and arms which we took

from your captors will be pursued by some of ours. It is all arranged.

They will ask the Turks to admit them, and if the latter have not learned

of your father's escape, perhaps they will do so. Once in, our men will

try to open the gate. The chances are against them, poor fellows! but

they are all volunteers, and will die fighting. If they win out, great

glory will be theirs."

"The moon does not rise to-night till just before midnight, so we have

plenty of time. We shall start from here at ten. If all be well, I

shall place you in the Tower with your father in less than a quarter-hour

from that. A few minutes will suffice to clothe him in bullet-proof and

get on his belt. I shall not be away from the Tower more than a very few

minutes, and, please God, long before eleven we shall be safe. Then the

Tower can be won in an attack by our mountaineers. Perhaps, when the

guns are heard on the ship of war--for there is sure to be firing--the

Captain may try to land a shore party. But Rooke will stand in the way,

and if I know the man and The Lady, we shall not be troubled with many

Turks to-night. By midnight you and your father can be on the way to

Vissarion. I can interview the naval Captain in the morning."

My wife's marvellous courage and self-possession stood to her. At half

an hour before the time fixed she was ready for our adventure. She had

improved the scheme in one detail. She had put on her own belt and

coiled the rope round her waist, so the only delay would be in bringing

her father's belt. She would keep the bullet-proof dress intended to be

his strapped in a packet on her back, so that if occasion should be

favourable he would not want to put it on till he and she should have

reached the platform of the aeroplane. In such case, I should not steer

away from the Tower at all, but would pass slowly across it and take up

the captive and his brave daughter before leaving. I had learned from

local sources that the Tower was in several stories. Entrance was by the

foot, where the great iron-clad door was; then came living-rooms and

storage, and an open space at the top. This would probably be thought

the best place for the prisoner, for it was deep-sunk within the massive

walls, wherein was no loophole of any kind. This, if it should so

happen, would be the disposition of things best for our plan. The guards

would at this time be all inside the Tower--probably resting, most of

them--so that it was possible that no one might notice the coming of the

airship. I was afraid to think that all might turn out so well, for in

such case our task would be a simple enough one, and would in all human

probability be crowned with success.

At ten o'clock we started. Teuta did not show the smallest sign of fear

or even uneasiness, though this was the first time she had even seen an

aeroplane at work. She proved to be an admirable passenger for an

airship. She stayed quite still, holding herself rigidly in the position

arranged, by the cords which I had fixed for her.

When I had trued my course by the landmarks and with the compass lit by

the Tiny my electric light in the dark box, I had time to look about me.

All seemed quite dark wherever I looked--to land, or sea, or sky. But

darkness is relative, and though each quarter and spot looked dark in

turn, there was not such absolute darkness as a whole. I could tell the

difference, for instance, between land and sea, no matter how far off we

might be from either. Looking upward, the sky was dark; yet there was

light enough to see, and even distinguish broad effects. I had no

difficulty in distinguishing the Tower towards which we were moving, and

that, after all, was the main thing. We drifted slowly, very slowly, as

the air was still, and I only used the minimum pressure necessary for the

engine. I think I now understood for the first time the extraordinary

value of the engine with which my Kitson was equipped. It was noiseless,

it was practically of no weight, and it allowed the machine to progress

as easily as the old-fashioned balloon used to drift before a breeze.

Teuta, who had naturally very fine sight, seemed to see even better than

I did, for as we drew nearer to the Tower, and its round, open top began

to articulate itself, she commenced to prepare for her part of the task.

She it was who uncoiled the long drag-rope ready for her lowering. We

were proceeding so gently that she as well as I had hopes that I might be

able to actually balance the machine on the top of the curving wall--a

thing manifestly impossible on a straight surface, though it might have

been possible on an angle.

On we crept--on, and on! There was no sign of light about the Tower, and

not the faintest sound to be heard till we were almost close to the line

of the rising wall; then we heard a sound of something like mirth, but

muffled by distance and thick walls. From it we took fresh heart, for it

told us that our enemies were gathered in the lower chambers. If only

the Voivode should be on the upper stage, all would be well.

Slowly, almost inch by inch, and with a suspense that was agonizing, we

crossed some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wall. I could

see as we came near the jagged line of white patches where the heads of

the massacred Turks placed there on spikes in old days seemed to give

still their grim warning. Seeing that they made in themselves a

difficulty of landing on the wall, I deflected the plane so that, as we

crept over the wall, we might, if they became displaced, brush them to

the outside of the wall. A few seconds more, and I was able to bring the

machine to rest with the front of the platform jutting out beyond the

Tower wall. Here I anchored her fore and aft with clamps which had been

already prepared.

Whilst I was doing so Teuta had leaned over the inner edge of the

platform, and whispered as softly as the sigh of a gentle breeze:

"Hist! hist!" The answer came in a similar sound from some twenty feet

below us, and we knew that the prisoner was alone. Forthwith, having

fixed the hook of the rope in the ring to which was attached her belt, I

lowered my wife. Her father evidently knew her whisper, and was ready.

The hollow Tower--a smooth cylinder within--sent up the voices from it

faint as were the whispers:

"Father, it is I--Teuta!"

"My child, my brave daughter!"

"Quick, father; strap the belt round you. See that it is secure. We

have to be lifted into the air if necessary. Hold together. It will be

easier for Rupert to lift us to the airship."

"Rupert?"

"Yes; I shall explain later. Quick, quick! There is not a moment to

lose. He is enormously strong, and can lift us together; but we must

help him by being still, so he won't have to use the windlass, which

might creak." As she spoke she jerked slightly at the rope, which was

our preconcerted signal that I was to lift. I was afraid the windlass

might creak, and her thoughtful hint decided me. I bent my back to the

task, and in a few seconds they were on the platform on which they, at

Teuta's suggestion, lay flat, one at each side of my seat, so as to keep

the best balance possible.

I took off the clamps, lifted the bags of ballast to the top of the wall,

so that there should be no sound of falling, and started the engine. The

machine moved forward a few inches, so that it tilted towards the outside

of the wall. I threw my weight on the front part of the platform, and we

commenced our downward fall at a sharp angle. A second enlarged the

angle, and without further ado we slid away into the darkness. Then,

ascending as we went, when the engine began to work at its strength, we

turned, and presently made straight for Ilsin.

The journey was short--not many minutes. It almost seemed as if no time

whatever had elapsed till we saw below us the gleam of lights, and by

them saw a great body of men gathered in military array. We slackened

and descended. The crowd kept deathly silence, but when we were amongst

them we needed no telling that it was not due to lack of heart or absence

of joy. The pressure of their hands as they surrounded us, and the

devotion with which they kissed the hands and feet of both the Voivode

and his daughter, were evidence enough for me, even had I not had my own

share of their grateful rejoicing.

In the midst of it all the low, stern voice of Rooke, who had burst a way

to the front beside the Vladika, said:

"Now is the time to attack the Tower. Forward, brothers, but in silence.

Let there not be a sound till you are near the gate; then play your

little comedy of the escaping marauders. And 'twill be no comedy for

them in the Tower. The yacht is all ready for the morning, Mr. Sent

Leger, in case I do not come out of the scrimmage if the bluejackets

arrive. In such case you will have to handle her yourself. God keep

you, my Lady; and you, too, Voivode! Forward!"

In a ghostly silence the grim little army moved forwards. Rooke and the

men with him disappeared into the darkness in the direction of the

harbour of Ilsin.

FROM THE SCRIPT OF THE VOIVODE, PETER VISSARION,

July 7, 1907.

I had little idea, when I started on my homeward journey, that it would

have such a strange termination. Even I, who ever since my boyhood have

lived in a whirl of adventure, intrigue, or diplomacy--whichever it may

be called--statecraft, and war, had reason to be surprised. I certainly

thought that when I locked myself into my room in the hotel at Ilsin that

I would have at last a spell, however short, of quiet. All the time of

my prolonged negotiations with the various nationalities I had to be at

tension; so, too, on my homeward journey, lest something at the last

moment should happen adversely to my mission. But when I was safe on my

own Land of the Blue Mountains, and laid my head on my pillow, where only

friends could be around me, I thought I might forget care.

But to wake with a rude hand over my mouth, and to feel myself grasped

tight by so many hands that I could not move a limb, was a dreadful

shock. All after that was like a dreadful dream. I was rolled in a

great rug so tightly that I could hardly breathe, let alone cry out.

Lifted by many hands through the window, which I could hear was softly

opened and shut for the purpose, and carried to a boat. Again lifted

into some sort of litter, on which I was borne a long distance, but with

considerable rapidity. Again lifted out and dragged through a doorway

opened on purpose--I could hear the clang as it was shut behind me. Then

the rug was removed, and I found myself, still in my night-gear, in the

midst of a ring of men. There were two score of them, all Turks, all

strong-looking, resolute men, armed to the teeth. My clothes, which had

been taken from my room, were thrown down beside me, and I was told to

dress. As the Turks were going from the room--shaped like a vault--where

we then were, the last of them, who seemed to be some sort of officer,

said:

"If you cry out or make any noise whatever whilst you are in this Tower,

you shall die before your time!" Presently some food and water were

brought me, and a couple of blankets. I wrapped myself up and slept till

early in the morning. Breakfast was brought, and the same men filed in.

In the presence of them all the same officer said:

"I have given instructions that if you make any noise or betray your

presence to anyone outside this Tower, the nearest man is to restore you

to immediate quiet with his yataghan. It you promise me that you will

remain quiet whilst you are within the Tower, I can enlarge your

liberties somewhat. Do you promise?" I promised as he wished; there was

no need to make necessary any stricter measure of confinement. Any

chance of escape lay in having the utmost freedom allowed to me.

Although I had been taken away with such secrecy, I knew that before long

there would be pursuit. So I waited with what patience I could. I was

allowed to go on the upper platform--a consideration due, I am convinced,

to my captors' wish for their own comfort rather than for mine.

It was not very cheering, for during the daytime I had satisfied myself

that it would be quite impossible for even a younger and more active man

than I am to climb the walls. They were built for prison purposes, and a

cat could not find entry for its claws between the stones. I resigned

myself to my fate as well as I could. Wrapping my blanket round me, I

lay down and looked up at the sky. I wished to see it whilst I could. I

was just dropping to sleep--the unutterable silence of the place broken

only now and again by some remark by my captors in the rooms below

me--when there was a strange appearance just over me--an appearance so

strange that I sat up, and gazed with distended eyes.

Across the top of the tower, some height above, drifted, slowly and

silently, a great platform. Although the night was dark, it was so much

darker where I was within the hollow of the Tower that I could actually

see what was above me. I knew it was an aeroplane--one of which I had

seen in Washington. A man was seated in the centre, steering; and beside

him was a silent figure of a woman all wrapped in white. It made my

heart beat to see her, for she was figured something like my Teuta, but

broader, less shapely. She leaned over, and a whispered "Ssh!" crept

down to me. I answered in similar way. Whereupon she rose, and the man

lowered her down into the Tower. Then I saw that it was my dear daughter

who had come in this wonderful way to save me. With infinite haste she

helped me to fasten round my waist a belt attached to a rope, which was

coiled round her; and then the man, who was a giant in strength as well

as stature, raised us both to the platform of the aeroplane, which he set

in motion without an instant's delay.

Within a few seconds, and without any discovery being made of my escape,

we were speeding towards the sea. The lights of Ilsin were in front of

us. Before reaching the town, however, we descended in the midst of a

little army of my own people, who were gathered ready to advance upon the

Silent Tower, there to effect, if necessary, my rescue by force. Small

chance would there have been of my life in case of such a struggle.

Happily, however, the devotion and courage of my dear daughter and of her

gallant companion prevented such a necessity. It was strange to me to

find such joyous reception amongst my friends expressed in such a

whispered silence. There was no time for comment or understanding or the

asking of questions--I was fain to take things as they stood, and wait

for fuller explanation.

This came later, when my daughter and I were able to converse alone.

When the expedition went out against the Silent Tower, Teuta and I went

to her tent, and with us came her gigantic companion, who seemed not

wearied, but almost overcome with sleep. When we came into the tent,

over which at a little distance a cordon of our mountaineers stood on

guard, he said to me:

"May I ask you, sir, to pardon me for a time, and allow the Voivodin to

explain matters to you? She will, I know, so far assist me, for there is

so much work still to be done before we are free of the present peril.

For myself, I am almost overcome with sleep. For three nights I have had

no sleep, but all during that time much labour and more anxiety. I could

hold on longer; but at daybreak I must go out to the Turkish warship that

lies in the offing. She is a Turk, though she does not confess to it;

and she it is who has brought hither the marauders who captured both your

daughter and yourself. It is needful that I go, for I hold a personal

authority from the National Council to take whatever step may be

necessary for our protection. And when I go I should be clear-headed,

for war may rest on that meeting. I shall be in the adjoining tent, and

shall come at once if I am summoned, in case you wish for me before

dawn." Here my daughter struck in:

"Father, ask him to remain here. We shall not disturb him, I am sure, in

our talking. And, moreover, if you knew how much I owe to him--to his

own bravery and his strength--you would understand how much safer I feel

when he is close to me, though we are surrounded by an army of our brave

mountaineers."

"But, my daughter," I said, for I was as yet all in ignorance, "there are

confidences between father and daughter which none other may share. Some

of what has been I know, but I want to know all, and it might be better

that no stranger--however valiant he may be, or no matter in what measure

we are bound to him--should be present." To my astonishment, she who had

always been amenable to my lightest wish actually argued with me:

"Father, there are other confidences which have to be respected in like

wise. Bear with me, dear, till I have told you all, and I am right sure

that you will agree with me. I ask it, father."

That settled the matter, and as I could see that the gallant gentleman

who had rescued me was swaying on his feet as he waited respectfully, I

said to him:

"Rest with us, sir. We shall watch over your sleep."

Then I had to help him, for almost on the instant he sank down, and I had

to guide him to the rugs spread on the ground. In a few seconds he was

in a deep sleep. As I stood looking at him, till I had realized that he

vas really asleep, I could not help marvelling at the bounty of Nature

that could uphold even such a man as this to the last moment of work to

be done, and then allow so swift a collapse when all was over, and he

could rest peacefully.

He was certainly a splendid fellow. I think I never saw so fine a man

physically in my life. And if the lesson of his physiognomy be true, he

is as sterling inwardly as his external is fair. "Now," said I to Teuta,

"we are to all intents quite alone. Tell me all that has been, so that I

may understand."

Whereupon my daughter, making me sit down, knelt beside me, and told me

from end to end the most marvellous story I had ever heard or read of.

Something of it I had already known from the Archbishop Paleologue's

later letters, but of all else I was ignorant. Far away in the great

West beyond the Atlantic, and again on the fringe of the Eastern seas, I

had been thrilled to my heart's core by the heroic devotion and fortitude

of my daughter in yielding herself for her country's sake to that fearful

ordeal of the Crypt; of the grief of the nation at her reported death,

news of which was so mercifully and wisely withheld from me as long as

possible; of the supernatural rumours that took root so deep; but no word

or hint had come to me of a man who had come across the orbit of her

life, much less of all that has resulted from it. Neither had I known of

her being carried off, or of the thrice gallant rescue of her by Rupert.

Little wonder that I thought so highly of him even at the first moment I

had a clear view of him when he sank down to sleep before me. Why, the

man must be a marvel. Even our mountaineers could not match such

endurance as his. In the course of her narrative my daughter told me of

how, being wearied with her long waiting in the tomb, and waking to find

herself alone when the floods were out, and even the Crypt submerged, she

sought safety and warmth elsewhere; and how she came to the Castle in the

night, and found the strange man alone. I said: "That was dangerous,

daughter, if not wrong. The man, brave and devoted as he is, must answer

me--your father." At that she was greatly upset, and before going on

with her narrative, drew me close in her arms, and whispered to me:

"Be gentle to me, father, for I have had much to bear. And be good to

him, for he holds my heart in his breast!" I reassured her with a gentle

pressure--there was no need to speak. She then went on to tell me about

her marriage, and how her husband, who had fallen into the belief that

she was a Vampire, had determined to give even his soul for her; and how

she had on the night of the marriage left him and gone back to the tomb

to play to the end the grim comedy which she had undertaken to perform

till my return; and how, on the second night after her marriage, as she

was in the garden of the Castle--going, as she shyly told me, to see if

all was well with her husband--she was seized secretly, muffled up,

bound, and carried off. Here she made a pause and a digression.

Evidently some fear lest her husband and myself should quarrel assailed

her, for she said:

"Do understand, father, that Rupert's marriage to me was in all ways

regular, and quite in accord with our customs. Before we were married I

told the Archbishop of my wish. He, as your representative during your

absence, consented himself, and brought the matter to the notice of the

Vladika and the Archimandrites. All these concurred, having exacted from

me--very properly, I think--a sacred promise to adhere to my

self-appointed task. The marriage itself was orthodox in all

ways--though so far unusual that it was held at night, and in darkness,

save for the lights appointed by the ritual. As to that, the Archbishop

himself, or the Archimandrite of Spazac, who assisted him, or the

Vladika, who acted as Paranymph, will, all or any of them, give you full

details. Your representative made all inquiries as to Rupert Sent Leger,

who lived in Vissarion, though he did not know who I was, or from his

point of view who I had been. But I must tell you of my rescue."

And so she went on to tell me of that unavailing journey south by her

captors; of their bafflement by the cordon which Rupert had established

at the first word of danger to "the daughter of our leader," though he

little knew who the "leader" was, or who was his "daughter"; of how the

brutal marauders tortured her to speed with their daggers; and how her

wounds left blood-marks on the ground as she passed along; then of the

halt in the valley, when the marauders came to know that their road north

was menaced, if not already blocked; of the choosing of the murderers,

and their keeping ward over her whilst their companions went to survey

the situation; and of her gallant rescue by that noble fellow, her

husband--my son I shall call him henceforth, and thank God that I may

have that happiness and that honour!

Then my daughter went on to tell me of the race back to Vissarion, when

Rupert went ahead of all--as a leader should do; of the summoning of the

Archbishop and the National Council; and of their placing the nation's

handjar in Rupert's hand; of the journey to Ilsin, and the flight of my

daughter--and my son--on the aeroplane.

The rest I knew.

As she finished, the sleeping man stirred and woke--broad awake in a

second--sure sign of a man accustomed to campaign and adventure. At a

glance he recalled everything that had been, and sprang to his feet. He

stood respectfully before me for a few seconds before speaking. Then he

said, with an open, engaging smile:

"I see, sir, you know all. Am I forgiven--for Teuta's sake as well as my

own?" By this time I was also on my feet. A man like that walks

straight into my heart. My daughter, too, had risen, and stood by my

side. I put out my hand and grasped his, which seemed to leap to meet

me--as only the hand of a swordsman can do.

"I am glad you are my son!" I said. It was all I could say, and I meant

it and all it implied. We shook hands warmly. Teuta was pleased; she

kissed me, and then stood holding my arm with one hand, whilst she linked

her other hand in the arm of her husband.

He summoned one of the sentries without, and told him to ask Captain

Rooke to come to him. The latter had been ready for a call, and came at

once. When through the open flap of the tent we saw him coming,

Rupert--as I must call him now, because Teuta wishes it; and I like to do

it myself--said:

"I must be off to board the Turkish vessel before it comes inshore.

Good-bye, sir, in case we do not meet again." He said the last few words

in so low a voice that I only could hear them. Then he kissed his wife,

and told her he expected to be back in time for breakfast, and was gone.

He met Rooke--I am hardly accustomed to call him Captain as yet, though,

indeed, he well deserves it--at the edge of the cordon of sentries, and

they went quickly together towards the port, where the yacht was lying

with steam up.