The Captain of the Janizaries Part 31

The interruption by the war of the negotiations with the Emir of Trebizond, whose daughter had been selected as the imperial spouse, revived the rumors which had once a.s.sociated the fair Albanian's name with that of his Majesty; and gave rise to a nick-name, "the Little Empress," which, among the soldiers, came to be spoken with almost as much loyalty of personal devotion, as if it had received the imperial sanction.

Constantine's solicitude led him to remonstrate with Morsinia for the exposure of her person to the dangers of the wall: but she replied--

"Have you not said, my dear brother, that the defence is hopeless?

that the city must fall? What fate then awaits me? The Turks have service for men whom they capture, which, though hard, is not d.a.m.ning to body and soul. What if they send you to the mines, to the galleys?

What if they slay you? You can endure that. Yet I know that you yourself would perish in the fight before you would submit to even such a fate. But what is the destiny of a woman who shall fall into their hands? It is better to die than to be taken captive. And is not yonder breach where the men of the true G.o.d are giving their lives for their faith, as sacred as was ever an altar on earth? Is not the crown of martyrdom better than a living death in the harem of the infidel?

The arrow that finds me there on the wall shall be to me as an angel from heaven; and a death-wound received there will be as painless to my soul as the kiss of G.o.d."

"But this must not be!" cried Constantine. "Our valor, if it does not save the city, may lead to surrender upon terms which shall save all the lives of the people."

"It is impossible," replied she. "His Majesty informed me yesterday that Mahomet had pledged to his soldiers the spoil of the city, with unlimited license to pillage."

Constantine was silent, but at length added. "If worst comes, it will then be time enough to expose your life."

"But the end is near, dear Constantine. The city is badly provisioned.

The poor are already starving. The garrison is on allowance which can sustain it but a few days. Besides, as you have told me, the Italians are at feud with the Greeks, and ready to open the gates if famine presses upon them."

"Yes, curses on the head of that monk Gennadius, who sends insult to our allies every day from his cell!" muttered Constantine. "But I cannot see you in danger, Morsinia. Promise me--for your life is dearer to me than my own--that you will not go upon the walls. I need not the solemn oath to our brave Castriot, and that to our father Kabilovitsch, that I will guard you. But, if not for my sake, then for their sake, take my counsel. I know that you are under the special care of the Blessed Jesu. Has He not shielded us both--me for your sake--many times before?"

"Your words are wise, my brother. You need not urge the will of Castriot and father Kabilovitsch, for your own wish is to me as sacred as that of any one on earth," said she, looking him in the eyes with the reverence of affection, and yielding to his embrace as he kissed her forehead.

"But," added she, "I must exact of you one promise."

"Any thing, my darling, that is consistent with your safety," was the quick reply.

"It is this. Promise me, by the Virgin Mother of G.o.d, that you will not allow me to become a living captive to the Turk."

"Not if my life can shield you. This you know!"

"Yes, I would not ask that, but something harder than that you should die for me."

A pallor spread over the face of Constantine, for he suspected her meaning, yet asked, "And what--what may that be?"

"Take my life with your own hand, rather than that a Turk should touch me," said Morsinia, without the slightest tremor in her voice.

Constantine stood aghast. Morsinia continued, taking his strong right hand in hers, and raising it to her lips--

"That were joy, indeed, if the hand of him who loves me, the hand which has saved me from danger so often--could redeem me from this which I fear more than a thousand deaths! Promise me for love's sake!"

"I may not promise such a thing," said the young lover, with a voice which showed that her request had cut him to the heart.

"Then you love me not," said the girl, turning away.

But the look upon Constantine's face showed the terrible tragedy which was in his soul, and that such an accusation brought it too near its culmination. Instantly she threw herself into his arms.

"Forgive me! forgive me!" cried she. "I will not impugn that love which has proved itself too often. But let us speak calmly of it. Why should you shrink from this?" she asked, leading him to a seat beside her.

"Because I love you. My hand would become paralyzed sooner than touch rudely a hair of your head."

"Nay, in that you do not know yourself," said Morsinia. "Would you not pluck a mole from my face if I was marred by it in your eyes!"

"But that would be to perfect, not to harm you," said Constantine.

"And did you not hold the hand of the poor soldier to-day, while the leech was cutting him, lest the gangrene should infect his whole body with poison? And would you not have done so had he been your long lost brother, Michael, whom you loved? And would you not have done it more willingly because you loved him?"

"Yes," said Constantine, "but that would be to save life, not to destroy it."

"But what, my brother dear, is the fairness of a face compared with the fairness of honor? What the breath of the body, when both the body and the soul in it are threatened with contamination of such an existence as every woman receives from the Turk?"

"I cannot argue with you, Morsinia. My nature rebels against the deed you propose."

"But," replied she, "is not love n.o.bler, and should it not be stronger, than nature? If nature should rebel against love, let love crush the rebellion, and show its sovereignty. If my hand should tremble to do aught that your true service required, I would accuse my hand of lack of devotion. But I think that men do not know the fulness of love as women do."

"Let me ask the question of you, Morsinia," replied the young lover after a pause. "Could you take my life as I lie here? Will your hand mix the poison to put to my lips in the event of the Turk entering the city? My life will be worse than death in its bitterness if you are lost to me."

Morsinia pondered the question, growing pale with the fearfulness of the thought. For a while she was speechless. The imagination started by Constantine's question seemed to stun her. She stared at the vague distance. At length she burst into tears, and laying her head upon her companion's shoulder, said:

"I love you too dearly, Constantine, to ask that of you which you shrink from doing. There is another who can render me the service."

"Who would dare?" said Constantine, rising and gazing wildly at her.

"Who would dare to touch you, even at your own bidding?"

"I would," said Morsinia quietly. "And this I shall save for the moment when I need the last friend on earth," she added, drawing from her dress the bright blade of an Italian stiletto. "Perhaps, my heart would tremble, and my flesh shrink from the sharp point, though I love not myself as I love you."

"Let us talk no more of this," said Constantine, "but leave it for the hour of necessity, which happily I think will not soon come. I must tell you now for what I sought you. I have been ordered this very night to aid in a venture which, heaven grant! shall re-provision the city. Several large galleys, laden with corn and oil, are now coming up the sea from Genoa. If they see the cordon of the enemy's ships drawn across the harbor, not knowing the extremity to which the city is reduced, they may return without venturing an encounter. I am to reach them, and, if possible, induce them to cut their way through.

The great chain at the entrance to the Golden Horn will be lowered at the opportune moment, and all the shipping in the harbor will make an attack upon the enemy's fleet. Of this our allies must be informed. As soon as it is dark I shall drift in a swift little skiff between these Turkish boats; and before the dawn I shall be far down on Marmora.

To-morrow night, if your prayers are offered, Jesu will grant us success."

With a kiss he released himself from her embrace and was gone.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

Constantine eluded the heavy boats of the Turks, which were anch.o.r.ed to prevent their drifting away upon the swift current with which the Black Sea discharges itself through the Bosphorus into Marmora. Upon meeting the befriending galleys, it was with little difficulty that he persuaded the Genoese captains to risk the encounter with the Turkish fleet. As Constantine pointed out to the Italian captains, the enormous navy of the blockaders, formed in the shape of a crescent, and stretched from the wall of the city across to the Asiatic sh.o.r.e, presented a more formidable obstacle to the eye than to the swift and skilfully manned Genoese galleys. The Turkish boats were generally but small craft, and laden down to the water's edge with men. The Genoese had four galleys, together with one which belonged to Byzantium.

These were vessels of the largest size, constructed by men who had learned to a.s.sert their prowess as lords of the sea. They were armed with cannon adapted to sweep the deck of an adversary at short range:--a weapon which the Turks had not yet floated, though they were in advance of the Christians in using such artillery on land. The high sides of the Christian galleys, moreover, prevented their being boarded except with dangerous climbing, while the defenders stood ready to pour the famous liquid called "Greek fire" upon the heads of those who should attempt it. Besides, heaven favored the Christians; for a strong gale was blowing, which, while it tossed the boats of their adversaries beyond their easy control, filled the sails of the Genoese, and sent them bounding over the waves: the oarsmen sitting ready to catch deftly into the bending billows with their blades. Each of the five vessels chose for a target a large one of the Turks, and clove it with its iron prow: while the cannon swept the Turkish soldiers by hundreds from other boats near to them. Pa.s.sing through the thin crescent, the Christian galleys skilfully tacked, and, careening upon their sides, again a.s.sailed the Turks before they could evade their swift and resistless momentum. Again and again the galleys pa.s.sed, like shuttles on a loom, through the line of the enemy, sinking the unwieldy hulks and drowning the crowded crews.

From the walls and house tops of the city went up huzzas for the victors and praises to heaven. From the sh.o.r.es of Asia, and from below the city wall, thousands of Moslems groaned their imprecations. The Sultan raged upon the beach, as he saw one after another of his pennants sink beneath the waves. Dashing far into the sea upon his horse, he vented his impotent fury in beating the water with his mace, shrieking maledictions into the laughing winds, and invoking upon the Christians curses from all the Pagan G.o.ds and Moslem saints.

At one moment the Byzantine galley was nearly overcome, having been caught in a group of Turkish boats, whose occupants climbed her sides, and did murderous work among the crew. Though ultimately rescued by the Genoese, it was only after severe loss.

But above all other casualties the Christians mourned the fate of young Constantine. With almost superhuman strength he had cut down several a.s.sailants; but was finally set upon by such odds that he was pressed over the low bulwarks, and fell into the sea. The galley with its consorts made way to the chain at the entrance to the Golden Horn, where the rich stores, a thousand times richer now in the necessity which they relieved, were received amid the acclamations of the grateful Greeks.

But woe,--Oh, so heavy! crushed one solitary heart. Her eyes stared wildly at the messenger who brought the fatal tidings; and stared, hour by hour, in their stony grief, upon the wall of her apartment.

Kind attendants spoke to her, but she heard them not. Her soul seemed to have gone seeking in other worlds the soul of her lover. The servants, awed by the majesty of her sorrow, sat down in the court without, and waited: but she called them not. Daylight faded into darkness. The lamp which was brought she waved with her hand to have taken away. The maidens who came to disrobe her for the night found her bowed with her face upon the couch; and, receiving no response to their proffered offices, retired again to wait.