The Pobratim Part 46

The two men hired a gig and drove off at once. When they reached Ragusa, they found the quiet town in a bustle on account of a murder that had taken place on the roadside. The old counts and marquises of the republic forgot their wonted dignity--forgot even their drawling way of speaking--and questioned the barber, the apothecary, or the watch at the town gate with unusual fluency.

A murder on the road to Gravosa! A most unheard-of thing. Soon people would be murdered within the very walls of the town! Such things had never happened in the good olden times!

"And who was the murdered man?" asked one.

"A stranger."

"And the murderer?"

"A stranger, too; a mere boy, they say."

"Oh! that explains matters," added a grave personage; "but if strangers will murder each other, why do they not stay at home and slaughter themselves?"

Such were the s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation Uros and the captain heard on alighting at Porta Pilla; and as they asked their way to the police station, everybody stared at them, and felt sure that in some way or other they were connected with the murder.

At the police station, the captain stated how his mate had disappeared from on board, and asked permission to see the murdered man. They were forthwith led to the mortuary-chapel, and they were glad to see that the corpse was a perfect stranger.

"What kind of a person is the young man you are looking for?" asked the guard who had accompanied them.

"Rather above the middle height, slim but muscular, with greyish-blue eyes, a straight nose, a square chin, curly hair, and a small dark moustache."

"And dressed like a sailor?"

"Yes."

"Exactly as you are?" said he to Uros.

"Yes; have you seen him?"

"Why, yes; he is the murderer."

Uros shuddered; the captain laughed.

"There must be some mistake," said the latter. "You have arrested the wrong person; such things do happen occasionally."

"He was arrested while struggling with the man he killed. He was not only all dripping with blood, but he still held his dagger in his hand."

"With all that, it's some mistake; for he didn't know this man," said the captain, pointing to the corpse stretched out before them. "If he did kill him, then it was done in self-defence."

"But where is he now?" asked Uros.

"Why, in prison, of course."

Uros shuddered again.

"We can see him, can't we?" said the captain.

"You must apply to the authorities."

The departure of the _Spera in Dio_ had to be put off for some days.

Uros went on board the ship, whilst the captain remained at Ragusa to look after his lost mate. There he soon found out that, in fact, it was Milenko who had been arrested; and after a good deal of trouble he succeeded in seeing him.

Although he did his best to comfort him and a.s.sure him that in a few days the real murderer would be found, he could not help thinking that the evidence was dead against him. Anyhow, he had him transferred to a better cell, and, by dint of _backseesh_, saw that his bodily comforts were duly attended to.

On the following day, the captain, Uros and the crew were examined; and all were of opinion that Milenko could not possibly ever have been acquainted with the unknown man, and, therefore, had no possible reason for taking away his life. The great difficulty, meanwhile, was to find out who the murdered man really was, from where he had come, whither he was going in the middle of the night.

After that, the captain went to a lawyer's; and having put the whole affair in his hands, found out that he could do nothing more for Milenko than he had already done; so he went and lit a candle for his sake, recommended him to the mercy of the Virgin and good St.

Nicholas, and decided to start on the following morning, without any further and unprofitable delay. Had the young man been his own son, he would not have acted otherwise. Uros, however, decided to remain behind, and join the ship at Trieste after a few days.

On the morrow Uros, after having seen the _Spera in Dio_ disappear, went to spend a few hours with his friend. A week pa.s.sed in this way; then, not knowing in what way to help Milenko, he bethought himself to seek the aid of some old woman versed in occult lore, in whose wisdom he had much more faith than in the wordy learning of gossiping lawyers.

Having succeeded in hearing of such a one from the inn-keeper's wife, he went to her at once and explained what he wanted of her.

She looked at him steadily for a while; then she went to an old chest and took out a quaint little mirror of dark, burnished metal, and making him sit in a corner, bade him look steadily within it. As soon as he was seated, she took a piece of black cloth, like a pall, and stretched it around him, screening him from every eye. Having done this, she threw some powder on the fire, which, burning, filled the room with fragrant smoke, or rather, with white vapour, which had a heady smell of roses. After a few moments of silence, she took the _guzla_ and played, as a kind of prelude, a pathetic, dirge-like melody; then she began to sing in a low, lamentable tone, Vuk Stefanovic Karadzic's song, ent.i.tled--

G.o.d'S JUSTICE.

Upon a lonely mead two pine-trees grew, And 'twixt the two a lowly willow-tree; No pines were those upon the lonely mead, Where nightly winds e'er whistle words of woe.

The one was Radislav--a warrior brave; Whilst Janko was the other stately tree.

They were two brothers, fond of heart and true; The weeping willow-tree that rose between Had whilom been their sister Jelina.

Both brothers loved the maid so fair and good, Fair as a snow-white lily fresh with dew, And good, I ween, as a white turtle-dove.

Once Janko to his sister gave a gift; It was a dagger with a blade of gold.

That day Marija, who was Janko's wife (A wanton woman with a wicked heart), Grew grey and green with envy and with grudge, And to Zorizza, Radislavo's wife, She said: "Pray tell me in what way must I Get these two men to hate that Jelina, Whom they love more, indeed, than you or me."

"I know not," said Zorizza, who was good-- Aye, good indeed, and sweet as home-made bread; "And if I knew, I should pray day and night For G.o.d to keep me from so foul a deed."

Marija wended then her way alone, And as her head was full of fiendish thoughts, She saw upon the mead her husband's foal, The fleetest-footed filly of the place.

Whilst with one hand she fondled the young foal, The other plunged a dagger in her breast; Then, taking G.o.d as witness, swore aloud That Jelina had done that deed of blood.

With doleful voice the brother asked the girl What made her mar the foal he loved so well.

Upon her soul the maiden took an oath That she nowise had done that noxious deed.

A few days later, on a dreary night, Marija went and killed the falcon grey-- The swiftest bird, well worth its weight in gold.

Then creeping back to bed, with loud outcry She woke the house; she said that, in a dream, She saw her Janko's sister, as a witch, Kill that grey falcon Janko loved so well.

Behold! at early morn the bird was dead.

"This cruel deed shall rest upon thy head,"

Said Janko to the girl, who stood amazed.

E'en after this Marija found no peace, But hated Jelina far more than death, So evermore she pondered how she could Bring dire destruction down upon the maid.

One night, with stealthy steps, she went and stole The golden-bladed knife from Jelka's room; And with the knife she stabbed her only babe.

The foul deed done, she put the knife beneath The pillow white whereon lay Jelka's head.

At early twilight, when the husband woke, He found his rosy babe stabbed through the breast, All livid pale within a pool of blood.

Marija tore her hair and scratched her cheeks With feigned despair; she vowed to kill the witch Who wantonly had stabbed her precious babe.

"But who has done this cruel, craven crime?

Who killed my child?" cried Janko, mad with rage.

"Go seek thy sister's knife, with golden blade; Forsooth, 'tis stained with blood." And Janko went, And found that Jelka still was fast asleep, But 'neath her pillow, peeping out, he saw-- All stained with blood--the knife with golden blade.

He grasped his sleeping sister by her throat, Accusing her of having killed his child.

And she--now startled in her morning sleep-- Midst sighs and sobs disowned the dreadful deed; Still, when she saw the knife all stained with gore, She grew all grey with fear and looked aghast, And guilty-like, before that gruesome sight.

"An I have done this horrid, heinous deed, Then I deserve to die a dreadful death.

If thou canst think that I have killed thy child, Then take and tie me to thy horses' tails, So that they tread me down beneath their hoofs."

The maid was led within the lonely mead, Her limbs were bound unto the stallions' tails; They lashed the horses, that soon reared and ran Apart, and thus they tore her limbs in twain.

But lo! where'er her blood fell down in drops, Sweet sage grew forth, and marjoram and thyme, And fragrant basil, sweetest of all herbs; But on the spot where dropped her mangled corse, A bruised and shapeless ma.s.s of bleeding flesh, A stately church arose from out the earth, Of dazzling marbles gemmed with precious stones-- A wondrous chapel built by hallowed hands.