Chapter XV: Part 15

We have said that Arslan Gherrei had been educated in Turkey, and held a high post in the army of the Sultan, where he acquired many accomplishments very unusual to the generality of his countrymen. In the calm retreat of his daughter's anderoon, when no strangers were by to witness his occupation, he had endeavoured to cultivate her youthful mind by the aid of the few books he had brought with him; and he had taught her not only to speak, but to read and write Turkish, accomplishments possessed probably by no other maiden in Circassia; for few were blessed with fathers equally heroic in war, and capable of enjoying the blessings of peace.

Zara, ignorant of her friend's accomplishments, looked with mute surprise when Ina, taking the note from the page's hand, hastily broke the thread which tied it, and read an account of the safety of her father and brother, as far as they had as yet proceeded in their warlike operations. The page was equally eager.

"Tell me, lady, tell me is my dear master in safety?" he said.

"Yes he is. Allah be praised! he and my father are well; and he tells me not to forget my care of you, Conrin."

"Heaven be praised that he is safe. That he remembers me, brings joy to my heart!" exclaimed the youth, clasping his hands.

The venerable Prince was kind and courteous in the extreme to his Polish guest; yet Thaddeus found, to his great disappointment, that the anderoon was, to him, forbidden ground; and instead of the constant communication he had delighted in the prospect of enjoying with Ina, he could never approach her, except to offer a few words of courtesy when she was taking the air. Those short sentences were understood by Kahija, who was scandalised that the young lady should be addressed, even in the ordinary terms of greeting; and more so on perceiving that Ina tolerated them. All his attempts at any further conversation were fruitless, owing to the constant vigilance of the old woman; and Ina's native modesty forbade her making any advances herself, however she might have received them on his part.

At last he bethought him of gaining the confidence of young Conrin; but the boy constantly avoided him, though he would now and then stop to listen if he began to speak of his master, and to make any observations in his praise. He thus felt the time hang heavily daring the absence of his friend; for he had few to converse with, except the old Prince, who spoke Turkish, and some of the Polish prisoners, or rather deserters, from the Russian army; his only satisfaction being the occasional glimpses he caught of Ina, and the delight of hearing the musical tones of her voice as she returned his salutations.

His great resource was the chase. With a light rifle in his hand, and attended by Karl and his former Polish servant, who enjoyed their life of freedom and independence, so different from the abject servitude to which they had hitherto been accustomed, he roamed the woods and mountains. In these excursions he was also accompanied by several of the youths of the valley, too young to go to war, who guided his steps along the precipices, and shewed him where same abounded. At other times he would mount a steed, appropriated to his use, galloping along the green valleys, and up the mountain's sides, and vieing with the young mountaineers in their equestrian exercises, till he became as expert a horseman as they. He would often, with his rifle, bring down a bird on the wing which they could not hit; thus winning their hearts by his proficiency in what they most admired.

He, however, began to regret not having accompanied his friend to the camp; and accused himself of want of friendship towards him.

We have said that Ina longed to breathe the free air of the mountains, unrestrained in her liberty by the slow-moving steps of old Kahija. Though she could not persuade the timid Zara to accompany her, she frequently asserted her independence by sallying forth attended only by her page. On her return, she listened, with composure, to the severe lectures she received for these transgressions of decorum; and still determined to renew them at every opportunity. How delighted she felt as, bounding like a young fawn, whose fleetness she rivalled, she flew through the shady groves. Then she would climb the mountain's brow, inhaling the fresh pure air, and almost forgetting, as she gazed over the fair land of mountain, vale, and stream, the miseries which threatened it.

Towards the end of one lovely day, she left the confines of the anderoon, attended by her page, who had now learned to love her, not more from his affection for her brother than for her own endearing qualities; looking around from the open wicket and seeing none to impede her progress, she took her way through the grove towards a valley she had long wished to explore, at some distance from the house. It was a lovely place, originally formed from a fissure in the mountains, increased by the constant wear of winter floods. Under the summer heat, the torrent had dwindled into a tiny and clear rivulet, in one part leaping in a bright cascade, then flowing in a gentle current, and next rushing over a ledge of rocks, and falling into the larger valley, where it expanded into a tiny lake.

The lady and her attendant walked on by its side over the soft velvet herbage which the receding waters had left, and began to climb the rocky sides of the glen, the summits of which were now blooming with various sweet scented shrubs and herbs. A soft and mellow sky cast a soothing influence over the scene, and the air was laden with fragrant odours. Thoughtless of the difficulties they had passed, and fearless of the steep and rocky paths, they clambered on, leaping lightly from ledge to ledge, and holding by the shrubs and plants to aid their steps, till at length they reached a platform, where they rested to view the broad and beautiful valley into which the little ravine opened.

Below them was the smiling village amid its groves of stately trees, its farm-yards, granaries, orchards, and cattle-pens. At a little distance, at the side of the stream, was the rustic and unpretending Mosque, from the platform of whose primitive minaret the Muezzin was calling all true believers to the evening prayer. Here were shepherds driving their flocks from the mountain's side to their pens, to shelter them from the wild beasts. The kine were lowing on their way to their sheds, while the village maidens carolled gaily as they milked their cows. The birds were singing from every rock and spray; and all living nature seemed calm and contented--

The page roused Ina from her contemplation of the scene.

"Lady," said he, "we ought ere this to have sought our homeward way: the path is steep and difficult, and the shades of evening will overtake us, ere we can reach the valley."

"Fear not, Conrin. There are no dangers we need dread," returned Ina. "Old Kahija's scolding is the worst that can happen to us. We mountain maids are sure of foot, and fearless as you seem, on the edge of the steepest precipice. But, as you say, it is full time we should return home; for, as it is, we shall be missed from the anderoon, and old Kahija will think that we have fled for ever from her grave rule."

But as they looked round, doubtful on what part of the steep cliff to begin their descent, they found that to return was not so easy an achievement as Ina had pronounced it to be; for so many turnings had they taken, that they could not discover the path by which they had attained the spot where they stood.

It was difficult to say how they could have reached their present position, as in vain they searched for the path. At length, Conrin hazarded a spring to a lower ledge, from which it appeared that practicable footing was to be found, when he was startled by a scream from above; and, gazing upward, he beheld the Lady Ina in the grasp of a ferocious, wild-looking man, who was endeavouring to drag her up the steep cliff, while she resisted with all her power, calling her page to her assistance. Conrin fruitlessly attempted to reach the upper ledge, for the slender shrubs and herbage gave way in his hands as he clutched them. Trembling with agitation, he fell back to the spot from which he was strenuously trying to climb.

The man's appearance was, in truth, ferocious. Of gigantic height, his face was almost covered with tangled dark locks hanging down from his head, on which he wore a cap of undyed brown and white goat-skin, the long hair of which, falling in front over his neck, added to the wildness of his features. His body was clothed in a tunic of the same material, and a long black cloak of goat's hair fell from his shoulders. Rough sandals of bark were on his feet, fastened to his ankles by thongs of leather. At his back hung a bow and quiver, and in one hand he grasped a thick spear or club and a round black shield of bull's hide; while in the other he held the slender form of Ina.

"Set me at freedom! How dare you thus insult me?" she cried. "I would seek my way homeward."

"Not so, fair maiden," answered the man with rough harsh tones, in a strange dialect, though Ina could comprehend it sufficiently to understand the tenor of his words. "Not so; you are a prize of too much value to be allowed to escape so easily."

"Begone, barbarian, and loose your hold," cried Ina, though fearful and trembling in his rude grasp, yet retaining her native dignity. "Think you to escape the vengeance of my tribe, if you should wrong me?"

"Vengeance! say you?" exclaimed the man scornfully. "Think you I fear the vengeance of any?"

"You will have cause to fear it, if you do not release me," she answered. "Know you not what chieftain's child I am?"

"I know full well," said the savage. "You are the daughter of the chief who wronged my master; who slew my master's brother; and you are the timid maid who would not be his bride. But now you'll not again refuse to obey his will."

"I know not of whom you speak," cried Ina. "My father never slew a chief of Atteghei."

"I know your father well," answered the ruffian. "He is the Chieftain Arslan Gherrei, and you refused to be the bride of the brave Khan, my master, Khoros Kaloret."

"Your master Kaloret Khan?" cried Ina, still more terrified than before, at the sound of that name. "Yet he would never dare to rob a noble Uzden of his daughter. Release me, ruffian!"

"My master fears not any chief of Atteghei," answered the man, fiercely. "I'll waste no more speech; so cease your cries, and come willingly. My noble master waits your coming."

Ina shrieked with fear. "Oh, Allah, protect me!" she cried, as the savage endeavoured to drag her away. "Barbarian, release me, I pray you, let me go."

"No, no, girl, your prayers are useless," answered the man. "Let my master hear them. On me, they are thrown away."

"Haste, haste, Conrin," she cried, in Turkish; "fly to our home. Send messengers to Selem, to my father, and rouse the villagers."

As the barbarian saw the page hastening to obey, he said to Ina: "Stay that boy, till we are out of sight. If he moves hence, I'll send an arrow through his breast."

Conrin, who understood not his words--Ina being too terrified to interpret them--was hurrying from rock to rock, fearless of the peril which a single false step might cause, or of the cruel death which threatened him; when the barbarian prepared to put his threat into execution. For an instant, he loosened his hold of Ina, unslinging his bow from his back, and drawing a shaft to its head, with a hand which never missed its aim. In vain, Ina shrieked to Conrin to stop, and implored the monster to hold his hand. Neither of them heard her voice.

The last moment of the poor boy's life seemed to have arrived, as the arrow flew from the string; but ere the hand which drew it reached the ear, it was struck by a violent blow, and the shaft wavering in its aim, flew high above the page's head. The fierce mountaineer, taking a second arrow, turned to his aggressor, when he found his arm held by a powerful and firm grasp.

Ina shrieked with fear for her preserver's life--for in him she beheld the stranger Thaddeus--as the follower of the Khan attempted to seize his heavy spear, and to fell him to the ground. But the young Pole, grappling with him, prevented his raising it high enough to strike. Though Thaddeus was strong and active, his fierce opponent was heavier and more powerful. Releasing his arm with a sudden exertion, he sought his dagger in his girdle; but the Pole throwing himself upon him with his whole force, the two combatants fell to the ground.

"Fear not for me, dearest Ina," cried he; "save yourself. Hasten down the cliffs, and fly homewards. I will hold this robber, until you are safe."

Ina scarcely heard his words, or, if she did, thought not of following his advice; but trembling for his life, she watched the combat, so as, if possible, to lend her aid. For an instant, Thaddeus was uppermost; but endeavouring to grasp his opponent's throat, he was obliged to release one arm; when, drawing his dagger from his belt, the mountaineer, by a violent effort, threw himself round, grasping the fatal weapon in his hand, and bringing the unfortunate youth below him. He was about to stab the young Pole, when another, though a feeble hand, directed its aim, and it struck deeply into the earth, in a cleft of the rock.

Thaddeus seized the dagger; when his opponent, with tremendous exertion, arose and attempted to hurl him over the cliff; but as the mountaineer approached the edge, his foot slipped. Seizing the fortunate moment, and mustering all his strength, Thaddeus struck the dagger deep into his breast. The huge barbarian fell heavily, still clasping Thaddeus in his arms, who, nevertheless, forced him to the edge of the platform, when the body rolled over to a jutting craig, some feet below where they stood.

Recovering himself, Thaddeus turned to Ina, "Lady," he said, "I owe my life to your courage: your timely aid saved me."

"Oh, no," she cried; "it was you who saved my life, and more than life, for which you bravely risked your own. Allah be praised, who guarded yours, and brought you to my rescue! You also saved poor Conrin's life. But let us not stay here. The comrades of the man may come and revenge his death on you. Oh, let us hasten home."

"I will bear you safely down these steep cliffs, lady," said Thaddeus; "you are weak, and scarce able to walk from terror."

Lifting her gently (and Ina thought not of resisting his offer), with firm and fearless steps, he sought a path amid the craigs; and as he bore her slight form in his arms, he felt her hand unconsciously press his. Her bright beaming eyes betrayed the ardent gratitude, which her lips feared to utter. She looked anxiously into his face, to learn if he felt oppressed by fatigue; but there she read alone his love and pride, at having saved her; nor could she bring herself to entreat him to set her down, till they reached in safety the bottom of the glen.

"I am stronger now, and will fatigue your arms no longer, noble Sir," she said. Thaddeus at last, unwillingly obeyed her repeated requests, though she still consented to lean on his arm, as he accompanied her homeward.

"Whence came that robber, who so terrified you?" asked Thaddeus.

"Oh he was no robber," answered Ina. "But a follower of the fierce Khan, whose brother the young Conrin slew and who seeks to wed me."

"Wed you, lady? Can such as he be worthy of you?" exclaimed the young Pole with enthusiasm.

"I know not; but I never loved him," answered Ina; "and now I doubly fear his vengeance for your sake. When he hears that you have slain his follower, he will not rest till he has had satisfaction for his blood. I would that you were safe beyond his reach!"

"I do not dread any injury he can do me," cried Thaddeus. "To have saved you from danger is so great a joy that I would die to gain it."

Ina felt her heart beat quickly as he spoke; for the tone of his voice said more even than the words themselves.

It was a moment of delight--of pure bliss to both those young beings; notwithstanding the wildness of the scene, the danger they had passed through and which might be still pursuing them. They knew that they mutually loved. They attempted not to speak; for they felt that words would not adequately convey their love. They looked into each other's eyes, and there they read all each could wish to know. Ina thought of her preserver, and the danger he was yet in; and, as she hastened through the glen, she cast many an anxious glance to see if any followed. She thought that she heard a footstep; it was but the rushing of the stream across a rock; she tried to increase her speed; again she turned with fear--it was but the echo of their tread among the cliffs.

Thaddeus endeavoured to tranquillise her alarms; and partially succeeded, by assuring her that he had himself descended the ravine, and had encountered no one. As they emerged from the narrow gorge, loud shouts saluted their ears, and they met a band of villagers led on by Conrin, who, overcome by his exertions, sunk down at his mistress's feet on seeing she was safe. Ina stooped over the poor boy with deep solicitude, endeavouring to unloose his vest; but he strenuously resisted her offers, declaring that he was fast recovering.

The party, composed of old and young, armed with weapons, shouted loudly for joy when they saw Ina in safety; she thanked them for their promptitude in coming to her rescue, and presented Thaddeus as her preserver. The villagers complimented him on his bravery and success, as with shouts and songs, they followed her homeward. The aged chief had left his house to encourage the people in their pursuit of the ravisher; but, when he saw his young kinswoman in safety, he felt a strong inclination to scold her for wandering. As, however, she appeared overcome with fatigue, he forbore, and left her to the lectures he knew she would be certain to receive from the old Kahija.

Thaddeus would not quit her side until he had conducted her to the gate of the anderoon, to commit her to the gentle care of Zara who was anxiously awaiting her.

Volume 3, Chapter III.

The Circassian chieftains had chosen for the encampment of their irregular but numerous army, a picturesque spot, of which the beauty was much encreased by the wild and warlike bands now filling it. It was in a rich and verdant valley watered by the streams of the Aphibs and the Ubin.

By the banks of the latter river the greater part of the tents were pitched beneath the lofty trees; some growing in clumps and others scattered over the meadows as in a highly cultivated park. The ground rose in gentle grassy undulations from the banks of the river, swelling into round hills covered with the richest verdure, on which fed numerous flocks and herds; while, further off, men, women, and children were employed in the agricultural labour of the fields, unimpeded by the presence of the warriors. In the far distance were seen the lofty pinnacles of the Black Mountains.

Each chief had selected some spot on which to pitch his tent, as his taste dictated, while their respective clansmen and followers were stationed around them.

Here some stalwart chief reposed on the turf in front of his tent, smoking the long chibouque, while looking at his followers engaged in every description of warlike exercise. Some selected a mark on a tree, and, retreating to a distance, fixed their hatchets in it with unerring aim; others hurled the heavy javelin; some the light dart; while numbers, with their bows in hand, were taking sure aim at a greater distance. Some, too, were practising wrestling and running.

In one place, the sound of the smith's anvil and hammer was heard repairing fire-arms for the coming fight. In the river the young men were engaged in teaching their horses to swim across rivers so as to be ready for any sudden excursion into the enemy's country. Here a troop of gallant young nobles, on their long-tailed swift steeds, were seen scouring along the valleys, and up the sides of the hills. The many coloured and richly-silvered trappings of their horses, and their own jewelled weapons and armour, shone brightly as they appeared amid the trees. It was, in truth, a brilliant, warlike, and exciting scene.

The chiefs and nobles were dressed in their complete war array; some in superbly embossed and ornamented armour, of polished steel; others in beautifully wrought chain armour fitting closely to the body, and being pliable to every movement, shewed off their graceful figures to advantage. The lofty plumes of their helms towered far above the heads of their followers, as they moved through the crowd; their jewelled poniards (the insignia of their rank) were placed in girdles richly worked in gold; and all their other arms were also highly ornamented. Some of the venerable elders appeared in turbans and long robes, the garb of peace; and a few nobles wore the simple and elegant tight-fitting coat, richly trimmed with silver lace, and embroidered belts to hold their arms.

The army was composed of people of many different tribes and races from all parts of the Caucasus, speaking various languages, having many different customs, with great variations in costume. First, in numbers and bravery, were the tribes of the Atteghei, consisting of the Abzeki, Khapsoukhi, Nothakhaitze, the Demirghoi, and many others. Bands of the disciplined Lesghians had come from the far off plains bordering on the Caspian, to war with the oppressors of their own country, with whom they there could not venture to compete. There were bands, also, of the nomadic tribes, the short broad-faced Calmuck and the Nogai Tartars. Many warriors, also, had come from Georgia, Mingrelia, and Immeritia, which countries have succumbed to the Russian power, but still bear her the most deadly hatred. Some bands had descended from the wild Alpine retreats of the snowy mountains, wild as the regions they inhabited or the beasts they rode, a small, uncouth, though hardy and active race. These were dark-visaged men, with projecting jaws, and black shaggy beards, mostly clothed in skins, with fur caps, and garments of the roughest materials. Though addicted to roving and predatory habits, they were now animated with the common feeling of hatred to the Urus.

There were the tribes of the Tubi and the Ubick; who fought on foot, owing to the inaccessible nature of their mountain-homes, where no horse can find a safe footing, and none can venture but the nimble-footed inhabitants, and the active goats and chamois. They are mostly of gigantic height, with handsome countenances, but fierce in appearance even to wildness, which was not a little increased by their sheep skin turbans, the long white wool of which curled over their face and shoulders. They wore the tight-fitting tunic of the Circassians, over which was thrown a black mantle of goat and sheep skin hair, platted together; while their sandals were formed of the bark of the linden tree. Each man was armed with a hatchet and poniard in his belt, a light gun on his shoulder, while in his hand he carried a weighty and knotted club, furnished at the end with a long steel barb to assist him in crossing streams, or springing from cliff to cliff. It served also as a rest to his gun to take more deadly aim, and as a weapon in the chase, or in his hours of amusement as a toy, to hurl with fearful exactness at a mark.

Besides these, came another tribe of foot warriors, of ferocious appearance, from the upper regions of the Black Mountains, bearing large, black, round shields made of wood, strengthened with bands of iron or yew, covered with the hide of the buffalo. These people were armed chiefly with the primitive bow and arrow, with which they can take the most certain aim.

There were also some of the fierce Tartar tribes, the most deadly foes to Russia, owing to her usurpation of their country. When driven as exiles and wanderers from their native land, they settled in the before uninhabited and almost inaccessible regions of the Caucasian range. They also wore jackets of skins and fur turbans, adding to the natural ferocity of their countenances. Their arms were broad curving scymitars, and long heavy Greek guns, with pistols and hatchets stuck in their belts, and embroidered with silver.

Even Europe furnished many warriors from ill-fated and ruined Poland, who had found refuge and sympathy among the generous mountaineers, to try their swords against the hated Moscov.

Among the infantry, the only bands which had any pretension to regular discipline were the Lesghians, who manoeuvre in compact bodies on their own plains, though their style of fighting is not well adapted to the mountain warfare of the Circassians.

The followers of the princes and nobles of the Atteghei were habited much alike, in the tight-fitting elegant tunic, without collar to confine the neck, which was left bare; large trowsers, ornamented girdles, embroidered slippers, or low boots of coloured leather, and the broad-crowned low cap, either of hair, or cloth, or leather, trimmed with fur. All had sabres by their sides and the cama in their belts; but many carried the bow and arrow without fire-arms. The greater number were provided with horses, which they had decked with all the ornaments they could collect.

The elders and judges, who had repaired to the camp to give their advice and counsel, wore large white turbans and long vests, and might be seen sedately seated beneath the shade of wide spreading trees, in circles, holding grave debates, their white beards flowing over their breasts, and giving them a grave and venerable appearance. Many of them, who had served in Turkey, retained the costume of that country; adding to the picturesque variety of dress to be found among this congregation of brave warriors.

No regular arrangement had been preserved in the formation of the camp; the different bands pitching their tents, or building their leafy shelters where they pleased. Many of the warriors had been followed to the camp by their wives, to attend to their tents and to dress their food: their tall and graceful forms were dressed in flowing robes of varied tints, embroidered with gold and silver, and long white veils falling from their heads as they were seen gliding among the trees.

The camp was unfortified; but though a short distance only from the Russian posts, there was no chance of a surprise, as scouts and advanced parties were constantly watching their foes, who could not make the slightest movement without due notice being given. This was the principal camp of the Abasians; but there were others under experienced leaders, along their frontiers towards Anapa, watching the enemy's castles in that direction.

Such was the magnificent spectacle which greeted Selem's eyes as, in company with his father and Hadji Guz Beg, they descended from a mountain-ridge into the valley of the Ubin, the refulgence of the evening sun throwing a lustre over the animated and exciting scene. As their squires discharged their rifles, numerous chiefs hastened forth from their tents, or from among the thickets and trees, mounting their chargers and galloping to meet their brothers in arms. While they rode on, others came from all directions, greeting with warm congratulations the arrival of the Hadji and Arslan Gherrei; nor were the younger nobles less pleased to see young Alp, who was a favourite with all.

The chiefs cast inquiring looks at Selem, and when Arslan Gherrei proudly introduced him as his son, relating his romantic history and recent exploits, loud shouts hailed him as a chief of Circassia. His heart beat with pride at having acquired that glorious appellation, as his brother warriors came forward to grasp his hand in welcome.

Their followers assembled under a grove of lofty trees near the river; a few minutes only elapsed since their arrival at the spot, before their tents were erected and every arrangement made for their accommodation.

Selem then accompanied his father through the encampment, to learn the proceedings and intentions of the leaders. Various plans of operations had been discussed; but, unfortunately, unanimity did not reign in their councils as to the best mode of proceeding.--The most sagacious were, however, for preventing the large Russian army, which threatened them, from advancing into the interior, without expending their strength in minor exploits: but others were for making excursions into the country of the Cossacks at unguarded posts, while the enemy were elsewhere engaged, and some were for at once storming the Russian forts. Selem saw with grief and pain the sad want of organisation in an army capable, if well directed, of driving back their foes to their own bleak steppes. But they were destitute of artillery and ammunition; and he saw too clearly that no great object could be attained beyond the strict defence of their native mountains. Yet, without some object in view, that vast multitude, unaccustomed to any combined movement, would soon be weary of restraint, and might, in a few hours, melt away like snow before the rays of the sun, and return to their own homes. They required some chief of superior talents, whom all would acknowledge as their commander, to lead them to war; and they would then become invincible. This want their invaders well knew, and reckoned on accordingly.

The next morning the sun rose with unclouded splendour over the beautiful valley of the Ubin, cheering the hearts of the assembled warriors with an omen of success. It was the day appointed for a solemn ceremony to take place, namely, the administering an oath, which all the princes, nobles, and leaders of Circassia had agreed to take, never to sheathe their swords, or make terms with the enemy, till he had retired from the neighbourhood of their country; and to sink in oblivion all ancient feuds and animosities among themselves. Many chiefs had already bound themselves by this agreement; but the majority had hitherto kept aloof from taking the oath, as it not only forbade them ever making terms with their foes, but involved the necessity of restoring all property unjustly retained from their countrymen.

Contiguous to the camp was a quiet and sequestered dell, with green hills rising close around it, and filled by a grove of lofty and venerable trees: a spot looked upon as sacred from time immemorial. In an open glade, in the centre of the grove, stood the mouldering remains of a stone cross, near which, where the lofty trees threw their cool shadows, now assembled hundreds of noble warrior chiefs. One sentiment, one soul, animated the breasts of all--the most deadly hatred to their foes, and a determination to resist to the very last gasp. Every one of the various tribes and bands, which composed the patriot army, here sent a representative to swear in their name, and to confer on measures for the general advantage.

As the princes, nobles, and leaders arrived, they took their seats on the green turf, when, all being assembled, a chief arose from the circle, and advanced towards the centre. His white turban, his long robes, his hoary locks and flowing beard, bespoke his sacred character. In his hands he held a book, which he raised aloft, as he knelt before the cross, and offered up to the all-potent and all-omniscient Being, whom every one present worshipped--whatever their other differences of creed might be--a prayer for the success of the sacred cause of liberty, and for the confusion of their tyrannical foes. Every warrior, bowing his head, reverently responded "Amen!" as the venerable sage ceased his prayer. Still holding the book before him, he rose, and, with a voice, yet deep and sonorous, though at times trembling with age, he exclaimed:--

"Noble warriors, chiefs of Circassia--we have this day assembled for a great, for a righteous purpose. It is to bind ourselves, by a solemn compact, to exert all the energies of our souls and bodies to drive hence the fell invaders of our country. Never to sheathe our swords while a foe to Circassia exists near her borders; to sink all private feelings of animosity, and to offer the hand of love and fellowship to all who will join us in this sacred cause. I call on all present to come forward, and to swear on the sacred book I hold, to conquer or die for our country, and to shew the world, what a brave band of brothers, though few in numbers compared to the vast hordes of our opponents, can do for the cause of liberty."

As he finished his address, one of the most influential of the Princes of the Atteghei advanced, and, reverently kneeling, kissed the book, and took the required oath. His example was followed by others, till the enthusiasm became general, and all rushed eagerly forward to sign the compact. As they took the oath, they formed in circles, grasping each other's hands, in token of their brotherhood. Those who had never before met, except with their hands on the hilts of their swords, now joined them in the pressure of love and fellowship; and the ardent wish of all, was to be led at once against the common foe.

Many, who had arrived too late for the opening of the ceremony, hastened forward from all directions to swear eternal enmity to the Russians. The aged judge again knelt, when all had subscribed the oath, to return thanks to heaven for the concord which reigned throughout the band of patriots; and, as the sacred ceremony concluded, loud shouts rent the air, from the vast concourse of warriors who covered the sides of the hills, and every woodland glade. Had any Russian spy been present, he might have warned his countrymen of the hopelessness of success, in their nefarious attempt to subjugate so resolute a people.

Volume 3, Chapter IV.

Our hero and his friends had spent two days at the camp of the patriot army on the Ubin, without devising any plan of operation, or without any movement taking place among the Russians, when three horsemen were seen riding at headlong speed down the sides of the mountains, towards the camp. The energies of the horses seemed taxed beyond their power. One noble animal fell, throwing his rider stunned before him. The horse of the second came down with tremendous force, after giving three or four bounds, and making fruitless efforts to continue his course; but the third, not stopping to see what had become of his companions, rode furiously on to the camp, whence many chieftains and warriors rushed out to hear the news he brought.

The messenger leaped from his steed as he came among them, the gallant beast trembling in every limb, and scarcely able to continue on his legs as he panted with exertion.

"Noble chieftains!" cried the messenger, "I bring you dire news from Ghelendjik. Three days ago, a numerous fleet of Russian ships was seen to approach our coasts, from which a mighty army disembarked. It is hoped they will remain some days within their fort to rest from their voyage; but, after that, there can be no doubt they will advance to ravage the country, if a stronger force than is there collected, is not opposed to them. The men of Ghelendjik will do their utmost to stop the invaders; but what can they hope to do against an overpowering force? Our Seraskier, therefore, sent us here with haste to summon some of his friends to join his army."

Among the foremost of the chiefs, who had hastened to meet the messenger, was the gallant Hadji. "Bismillah! not a moment is to be lost then," he cried, seizing his standard from before his tent, waving it aloft, and again plunging the staff into the ground. "I will hasten with joy to your chieftain's aid, and we will stop these Urus on their march. Gallant nobles and warriors, whoever among you will bear me company to the aid of our hard-pressed countrymen, let them assemble round this banner within three minutes, and we will away; for, perhaps, before this the Russians may have begun their march. Let those who will, follow."

Saying which, the brave old chief hastened to don his helmet, his squire leading forth his steed; and in less time than he had indicated, he was on horseback by the side of his banner. Alp soon galloped up, followed by Selem, who directly volunteered to accompany his venerable friend, after taking leave of his father, who was obliged to remain. Before the time for starting had arrived, numerous warriors came up from all directions; the news, that an expedition was on foot, having flown like lightning through the camp; so that, within five minutes of the arrival of the messenger, several hundred horsemen had assembled, fully equipped, to follow the Hadji. Again seizing his standard, the Hadji waved it aloft as a signal to march; when giving a loud shout, the band of warriors set off at a quick speed, many others promising to follow.

The Hadji led on his followers as fast as they could proceed without exhausting their horses, stopping only at night to rest for a few hours; and before sun-rise they were again in their saddles. Their anxiety to hear some news of the enemy was extreme, for they were now approaching the neighbourhood of the Russian fort; though it was impossible to say in what part of the country they might sally out to commit their depredations.

They drew rein on the summit of a mountain, from which they obtained a far-off view of the sea, in the direction of Ghelendjik, and of the intervening hills and valleys, from which, with their glasses, they could perceive wreaths of smoke curling upwards to the clear sky in every direction. Alas! they told a sad tale of destruction going forward! As the Hadji gazed with an anxious eye to discover the cause--

"Curses on the fell Giaour!" he exclaimed. "Yonder flames and smoke are their hellish work! See how the burning cottages, and farms, and ripe corn fields of our countrymen, mark the course of our foes. See, they take the passes towards Anapa. Ha! we may yet be in time to stop them before they reach that castle. They will no doubt attempt the passage of the valley of the Zemes; and there the brave Seraskier Manjour Bey will be found in waiting for them. Onward, my friends, we will see what these Moscov are about."

Saying which, the whole party urged their horses down the dizzy mountain's side, crossing valleys, streams, rocks and hills, in their eagerness to arrive at the scene of action. It was nearly sun-set when they came within hearing of distant and straggling shots; and, surmounting a hill, they perceived in the broad valley below them, the vast Russian force winding its way by the side of a clear stream, which protected one flank.

The long and close columns advanced in regular and steady order; their colours waving above their heads, their bands playing animating and lively airs, and their artillery guarding their van and rear. Trains of baggage and ammunition waggons were in the centre, furnished with all the "materiel" for war; while troops of Cossacks scoured the fields on each side, to protect their flanks, and to guard them from a surprise. Here and there might be seen hovering around them, parties of the patriot horsemen, every now and then charging the Cossacks, grappling with their opponents, bearing them off, or cutting them down, ere the Russians could point their howitzers at the assailants.

A messenger now arrived who had been sent in search of the Hadji's party from the Seraskier, then commanding the main body of the Circassians assembled to impede the Russian's progress. He informed them that this chief had determined to hazard no engagement till the enemy had entered the valley of the Zemes, which they would probably do on the following morning; calling in all stragglers to form an ambuscade, except a few scouts to watch the movements of the foe. The Hadji and his party directly determined to obey the wishes of the General, as did most of the parties who had been engaged in harassing the enemy's advance; though a few still continued hovering on his flanks.

The Hadji and his followers, therefore, turned their horses' heads in the direction of the spot where their friends were assembled; riding over the summit of the hills, which bounded the valley, till they arrived at the edge of the lofty cliffs forming the sides of the pass or glen of the Zemes. The Seraskier Manjour Bey came forward to welcome the friends who had so opportunely arrived; and led them round to the places where he had posted his men, who were to sleep that night on their arms ready for any sudden movement of the enemy, should they attempt to pass through the gorge under cover of the night; the Hadji placing his followers in other advantageous positions. Behind every rock and bush, on every projecting craig where footing was to be found, were to be seen the athletic forms of the highland warriors, their rifles and bows ready for action, and their ears intent to catch the first notes of the Russian horns in their advance. Many also, in places to which they could lead their horses, were crouching down by the side of the well-trained animals, hidden by the thick brushwood and broken rocks.

It was but a small body of mountaineers whom the Hadji and Selem found assembled; they were entirely destitute of artillery, and there was a scarcity of ammunition. They could, therefore, depend alone on their sharp broad swords to contend with the well-trained bands of Europe supplied with all the "materiel" of war. The Hadji was deeply disappointed when he discovered the hopelessness of entirely annihilating the Russian army, as he at first expected; but he determined to gall them, as much as possible, in their march.

Here the brave patriot band continued the live-long night in eager expectation; not a word above a whisper being uttered to disturb the dead silence which reigned around. Young Alp remained by his father's side, as did Selem, for they well knew that where the fight was thickest, there would the gallant old warrior be found. Seated on the soft heather, on a bank rising but a little way above the bottom of the glen, they passed the night, listening to his long tales of war, and his adventures. Our hero, unaccustomed as yet to the night watch, and the bivouac, was worked up to the highest pitch of excitement and expectation; the night seemed interminably protracted; but to the other hardy warriors it was an affair of constant occurrence, though they were, perhaps, no less eager for the issue of the approaching combat, which might be of such vital importance to the liberty of the province of Khapsoukhi.

At length, as reclined on the turf, he gazed up into the pure calm sky, dotted with myriads of stars, they seemed to grow fainter and fainter, until he could scarcely distinguish them, amid the blue void. He sprung to his feet; not a sound was heard; the first faint streaks of dawn appeared in the east, yet no one moved from the leafy shelter. The sun rose, a vast globe of living fire, glowing as if in anger at the scene of blood on which his beams were so soon to shine; now throwing a glowing red flame on the dew-besprinkled trees above their heads, soon to be followed by one of still deeper hue.

So calm and quiet was the scene, that a traveller might have passed through the glen, unconscious that he was surrounded by hundreds of warriors and their steeds. All were on the tiptoe of expectation; for every moment might bring up the Russian army; when the interest was increased tenfold as the scouts, breaking through the brushwood, spurred their horses up the sides of the glen.

"The Urus are advancing! The Urus are advancing!" they cried, as they passed to make their report to the Seraskier, and to take their station within the shelter of the thickets. All things wore again the silence of the grave; then the cheering sounds of drums and fifes came faintly on the breeze, through the windings of the valley; next, the firm tread of the approaching host might be heard; and then appeared the advance guard of the Russian army. Onward they came, regardless of danger. Each of the highland warriors held his breath with eagerness, and more firmly grasped his sword to spring forward on the foe; or kept his finger on the lock of his rifle, or drew his arrow to his ear, prepared for the word of command to commence the work of death.

Not a leaf moved, not a whisper was heard, when the advancing column of the Russian force appeared in sight. The leading file came directly below the ambuscade. At this moment, a terrific cry arose from the sides of the glen, reverberating from rock to rock, from craig to craig, down the whole extent of the savage pass.

"Come, my sons, now is the moment; we'll up and be at them. Follow, those who will. Wa Allah! Allah! Allah!" cried the gallant Hadji, springing to his horse. His example was followed by Alp, Selem, and about twenty other warriors, who drew their scymitars as they rushed from the leafy cover; shrieking, rather than shouting their war cry, and dashing among the foremost ranks of the Russians, giving them not a moment to defend themselves.

It is necessary to go back a little in our narrative, and explain the cause of this sudden incursion on the part of the Russians. When the brig of war returned to Ghelendjik, bringing the remnant of the garrison, and an account of the loss of the fort, the rage of Baron Galetzoff knew no bounds; especially when he heard that our hero had been one of the most daring leaders, and that Lieutenant Stanisloff had escaped. Again, and again, he renewed his vows of wreaking vengeance on the Circassians, and expressed his determination to capture the two friends at all hazards. Count Erintoff confessed that he had, at first, the intention of putting the Baron's warrant into execution himself, and dispatching Thaddeus in prison, with his own hands; but the surprise of the mountaineers had been so sudden, that he had barely time to escape with his life. Some time after these events, a fleet arrived with fresh troops to garrison Ghelendjik; and the Baron received orders from the general-in-chief to proceed with a large body of troops by land, to Anapa, through the defiles of the Zemes, from thence to take up his position, and erect a new fort near the Kouban, at no great distance from the spot where the Ubin falls into that river.

The Baron marched out of the fort with four or five thousand men under his command, well supplied with all the munitions of war, and was allowed to proceed unmolested through the broader valleys, where his cannon had range enough to play, leaving, as he advanced through the smiling vales, dotted with hamlets, and spread with verdant fields, a long track of ruin and desolation behind him. So suddenly, indeed, had the Russian army sallied out, that the inhabitants had scarce time to drive off their flocks and herds, and remove their valuables, as from a distance they mournfully beheld, but with a keen hope of vengeance, their habitations wantonly committed to the flames. The Russians continued to advance through the open valleys, and through the first part of the defiles of the Zemes, without meeting a foe; the country throughout appealing to be some land of enchantment, so calm and beautiful did it look. They began to congratulate themselves on having awed the natives into peace, and on the hope of being allowed to perform their march without molestation. Towards the evening, indeed, a few Circassians appeared, attacking their flanks, at intervals, like hornets on some huge animal, and flying off, before there was time to send any of their own cavalry to pursue them. The General had ordered the Cossacks to scour the sides of the hills, to prevent the main body from being taken by surprise--a most hazardous service; for, one by one, those who took the outer range disappeared, and their comrades, who went in search of them, shared the same fate; but there was no time to make inquiries.

That night the army slept on their arms; before the sun arose on the following morning, they were again on their march. They advanced cautiously through many serpentine windings of a deep gorge; at their feet rushed the surge of a mountain torrent, in whose bright waters the soldiers eagerly slaked their thirst. Not a foe had been seen as onward they marched, the cool morning air refreshing their cheeks, and a deep and solemn silence reigning through the glen.

In a moment that scene of quiet and repose was changed into one of carnage and confusion. The foremost ranks fell back, trembling at the sound of the war shout of the mountaineers, as from behind every craig, shrub, and tree, a destructive shower of bullets and arrows fell thick among them. At that instant, a troop of fierce horsemen leaped from amid the rocks, hewing down all who crossed their path; and, ere the cannon could be brought to bear, vanishing on the opposite side.

It was the daring band of Guz Beg.

"Ya Allah! well done, my sons!" cried the veteran. "My brave Alp, you will not disgrace your father. You cut down those vile Urus as a mower cuts corn with his sickle. Ask what you will of me, my son, and it shall be granted for that one charge. What say you, my friends, shall we be at them again?"

Saying which, before there was time to think of the great danger they ran, the Hadji's band were once more upon the amazed and confused ranks of the foe, scarce recovered from their first panic. They were not this time so fortunate; one of their number fell by the fire which the Russians now opened upon them; and Selem was nearly suffering the same fate, for, as he swept by, he perceived the Count Erintoff in the advance, who spurred on his horse to meet him; but too many men intervened for them to exchange blows; and Selem was obliged to follow his friends, being the last Circassian horseman who reached the covert of the wood.

"That will do for the present," said the Hadji. "But, mashallah! I should like to be among them again. A few charges like that would annihilate their army."

Selem, however, urged him not to attempt the manoeuvre, which involved too great a risk, without advantage, to his valuable life. However, the Hadji and Selem were every where to be seen dashing at the foe, then galloping up the steep sides of the glen.

The Russians, stunned with the terrific cries knew not which way to turn. Where they least expected an attack, they found themselves grappled by the active mountaineers, who seemed to leap from the cliffs above their heads, dealing death around them with their sharp broad daggers, then rapidly disappearing among the rocks, leaping from craig to craig, where none could follow. Hundreds were shot down by the silent arrows of their invisible foe; nor, as they gazed with fear around, could they tell whence the shafts proceeded. The soldiers saw their comrades next to them sink down, struck by those winged messengers of death. Their ranks were thinning fast, nor could they defend themselves, nor attack their aggressors; but in these trying moments, the stern discipline, even of slaves, triumphed over their fears, and rescued them from the hands of the most daring and courageous warriors. The officers shewed courage worthy of a nobler and better cause: exerting themselves to the utmost, with calm voices, keeping up the men's spirits, closing their ranks, and leading them on in order.