Chapter XX: Fugitives

“Maurice, it isn’t true! You are not sending us away and staying here yourself?”

“My dear Zoe, it’s the only thing to be done. But I foresee that my hair will be grey before it is done.”

“But don’t you see that when we have held out so long---- Oh, Maurice, we came for the sake of the cause, and we don’t want to forsake it when it has failed. We don’t mean to go away and be saved without you.”

“Don’t you think I know that? But when the only thing you can do for me is to go quietly----? There’s Con, you know. We couldn’t let the little chap be killed without trying to save him, could we? And you will have to help look after him, see that he doesn’t quite forget me, don’t you know?”

“I hate Eirene!” cried Zoe passionately.

“No, don’t say that. She is awfully cut up--didn’t realise how near we were to the end of all things, of course. I say, Zoe, you mustn’t visit this on her. It’s not her fault really, and I want you two to stick together. If you say to yourself--I mean, if you remember--if it occurs to you, don’t you know?--that I--I cared for her, perhaps it might make it easier.”

“It won’t, because she has treated you so shamefully.”

“At least she has promised to do the last thing I shall ask her, and you won’t.”

“Oh, Maurice, of course I will! Oh, what a shame! you have made me promise. But, my dear boy----”

“Maurice!” the curtain at the door was lifted, and Eirene came in, very pale and quiet. “I want to know who is to go with us to-night. They say that the way to Ephestilo is blocked, and that we shall have to go round.”

“Wylie thought Zeko would be the best man to command the escort,” said Maurice, guessing that Wylie was within hearing; “and we shall pick out six of our best men to go with him.”

“It is not enough,” said Eirene imperiously. “I mean, we must have a European. We may come on the Roumis anywhere. You must send Colonel Wylie with us.”

“Of course, the very thing!” said Maurice, with almost too ready acquiescence. “I’ll tell him he is to go.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Wylie, appearing in the doorway; “but I have a voice in the matter, and I am not going. You will find Zeko quite trustworthy, Princess, and he knows the way as well as I do.”

“It is not fitting,” persisted Eirene. “Maurice, I decline to go unless we are properly escorted.”

“Your husband commands here, ma’am,” said Wylie sharply. “If it is his order that you are to go, go you will.”

“Not at all. Are you not teaching me to defy him at this very moment, Colonel Wylie? I can quite believe you are capable of sending me away by force, but I may remind you that if I chose to scream or struggle, all your plans would be betrayed.”

Wylie turned away impatiently. “You may say what you like, ma’am, but I am not going.”

“Not if I ask it, Wylie?” said Maurice.

“No,” was the gruff reply. “You are plotting to save me from whatever happens to you, and I won’t have it.”

“‘I will be drowned, and nobody shall save me,’” quoted Maurice, in a perplexity so hopeless that it became humorous. “Look at it sensibly, old man. Can’t you realise what a comfort it would be to me to know that the girls had some one to look after them?”

“I stay here to look after you.” Wylie was unmoved.

“But you are on the sick list. Really, you wouldn’t add to our fighting strength much, you know, and if we succeed in surrendering before Nilischeff does it for us, your presence would complicate matters horribly. You are a meddlesome foreigner, you see, without even as much right here as I have. To make things easier--as a favour to me----”

“Don’t ask favours, Maurice; give your orders!” cried Eirene, her voice high and harsh. “You realise, if Colonel Wylie doesn’t, that we may never reach Ephestilo, and that we must not fall into the hands of the Roumis. Do you see now, both of you? Neither Constantine nor Zoe nor I--no descendant of John Theophanis--must fall into the hands of the Roumis.”

“Wylie, you see?” cried Maurice passionately. “How could I put such a responsibility into the hands of Zeko?”

“For God’s sake, don’t put it into mine!” cried Wylie in horror. “Go yourself, and leave me here.”

“I can’t, and you know it. Wylie, you must go. You are the only man I can trust in a thing of this kind.”

Wylie looked round him with hunted eyes, as though seeking a way of escape. Then, with a groan, “All right. I’ll go,” he said.

“I knew you would. Thanks, old man.”

“And after all,” said Zoe, trying to keep her lips from trembling as she spoke, “we may meet the party from the ship quite soon, and then Colonel Wylie can come back at once to you, Maurice.”

“Ah, of course. That I will,” said Wylie.

“Only if you have handed them over safely,” said Maurice. “Don’t let me see you again if you can’t do that.”

“All right. We start as soon as it is dusk, then.” His voice had regained its usual tones as he turned to Eirene and Zoe. “Put on native shoes, and dark clothes, if you have them--handkerchiefs on your heads instead of hats, like the women here. No luggage, of course. I will give you the blue lights,” he added to Maurice. “You must burn them on the gateway at half-hour intervals, without fail. If the Emathians object, tell them it is a signal of distress, a last appeal for help from the Admirals. You must keep our absence a secret, of course. I will have the men we are to take with us put on guard, so that they can get away without being seen.”

How the hours of that dreadful day wore themselves away, none of the people chiefly affected could have told. By far the most cheerful was Maurice, over whom the impending doom hung most certainly. Eirene was filled with a passionate remorse, which it was now too late to prove save by the promptest acquiescence in anything her husband suggested, and Wylie went about like a man under sentence of death. As for Zoe, the active imagination which had played such a large part in her history ran riot now in scenes and possibilities of horror, until she could only restore herself to some measure of calmness by the sage reflection that nothing in all her life had ever proved as terrible as she had pictured it beforehand. The only humorous element in the day’s doings was furnished by Zeko and his six men, who objected as strongly as did Wylie to being sent out of the way of danger, and could only be induced to go by the promise that they should return with him when the ladies had been placed in safety.

It was more difficult now to leave the monastery secretly than it had been when the adventurers reached Hagiamavra, for the hills round it were no longer solitary, but dotted with the huts and tents and camp-fires of the insurgents and refugees, who were crowding closer to this central point as the lines were tightened round them. Maurice was naturally the chief object of interest to these people, and he concentrated their attention on himself by preparing to start with his guards, shortly before dusk, for the breastwork on which the Maxim had been mounted the day before, to resume the defence as soon as the armistice expired. The malcontents under Nilischeff, their occupation gone by the loss of the line they should have defended, hung about sullenly until he ordered them away to strengthen other weak points, and begging women and wailing children, demanding vainly the food which he had not to give them, watched the departure of the forlorn hope. For that it was a forlorn hope there could be no doubt. The Roumi seizure of the ravine between the monastery and Ephestilo had driven a wedge into the heart of the defences, and no one knew better than Maurice that at any moment he might be stabbed in the back by his own men. But his business was to keep matters going somehow until the morning, and then to obtain such terms as he could for the poor starving people around.

Through the open doors of the great gateway the monastery guards could be seen sitting round their fire in the courtyard, Eirene and Zoe were on the gallery to wave farewell to Maurice, and Wylie was clearly visible in the background, doing something to the remaining Maxim. No one could have imagined that they had any intention of leaving the place that night, but in an hour all was changed. Slipping out one by one from the small door at the side of the gateway, the fugitives assembled in the shadow, while the fire in the courtyard was diligently kept up by Armitage’s steward, who had volunteered to remain for this special purpose, so that the light might continue to be visible to the people encamped outside. He was also charged with the care of the blue lights, the first of which shed a ghastly glare about an hour later over the rugged landscape and the awestruck upturned faces of the refugees. They interpreted it as a supernatural portent of disaster, a sign of the divine wrath such as preceded the fall of Jerusalem, and a chorus of mingled shrieks and wailing arose, until the steward, much irritated, roused two lay brethren forcibly from their slumbers, and sent them to calm the people with the news that the terrible lights were the sign of safety rather than of ruin.

The fugitives were well beyond the range of the light when the glare first broke out. Zeko went in advance, to make sure of a path, since to stumble over a sleeping refugee would have been to wreck all hope, then three of his men, then Eirene, carrying little Constantine in a shawl wrapped round her, and Zoe, to whom she resolutely refused permission to share the burden, while the rear was brought up by Wylie, walking feebly with the aid of a stick, and the other three insurgents. The levels and plateaus were necessarily avoided, and the way led down dry torrent-beds, and up steep hillsides covered with thickets of sweet-smelling shrubs, where the only thing to be heard, besides the soft footfalls of the party, was the chirp of the grasshopper. There was no moon, which was an advantage in one way and a drawback in another, but Zeko was well accustomed to finding his way by the stars, and he led on almost without a pause until, halting on a ridge after a specially exhausting climb, his followers became aware of a sound which was not that of their own labouring breath.

“Down! down!” hissed Zeko, and they crouched under the bushes from which they had just emerged, while the guide beckoned Wylie to him. Together they crawled forward, and were lost to sight for a time which seemed interminable to the two women, who could now distinguish clearly the sound of muffled footsteps on the other side of the ridge. Constantine, who had been inclined to be unduly talkative in the surprise of this night-journey, went to sleep in his mother’s arms with a murmur of content, and they waited with what patience they might, the guards lying round them, with itching fingers on the triggers of their rifles. At last Wylie returned.

“The Roumis are more enterprising than we thought them,” he said. “They are evidently sending a force up to act against the monastery from this side, so we shall have to change our route a little, and try to cross their line of march when they have passed.”

This meant a tedious working along the top of the slope among the bushes, ready to drop down under their shadow at a word, thus pursuing a course parallel with that of the advancing Roumis, but in the reverse direction. After a while, the friendly ridge sank into a confusion of hillocks and ravines, and here it was necessary to proceed even more carefully, since any moment might bring them face to face with Roumi stragglers who had taken a wrong turning in the dark. The danger was so great that Zeko bore away gradually more to the left, away from the line of march, despite the remonstrances of Wylie, who urged that they were getting into a region neither of them knew, and that it would be wiser to wait for a while, until the enemy was quite out of hearing. But Zeko was so confident of his ability to find his way, and so resolutely determined to keep moving, lest time should be wasted, that he still pressed on, leading his unfortunate charges such a dance, up hill and down dale, that it was with positive physical relief they heard him at last confess he did not know where he was, and that it would be well to wait for daylight before going farther, lest they should run into the midst of the enemy. They were now in a well-wooded, or rather well-bushed, ravine, and he suggested that they should conceal themselves in the undergrowth and snatch what rest they could. Wylie agreed perforce, for the long hours of scrambling had told upon him so much that he could scarcely stand, and he advised Zoe and Eirene to pull their head-handkerchiefs over their faces, so as to save themselves from scratches, and work their way in under the bushes. The guards were already doing this, and a sudden exclamation, followed by a string of prayers in a strange voice, made Wylie and Zeko angrily order silence.

“It is a man, lord!” they answered, crawling out again and dragging with them a dishevelled figure, who was gradually identified, when his terror had a little subsided, as a goatherd named Mikhaili. His hut was situated in these ravines, he told them, and thinking it was safe from molestation by reason of its solitude, he and his family had remained there instead of seeking refuge near the monastery, the more so since they were able to live as usual on the produce of their flock, which must have been given up into the common stock if they had joined the rest. But this night they had not ventured to remain indoors, for they had seen Roumis quite close at hand, and though they were far too much terrified to watch them continuously, they could hear them moving about, now in one direction, now in another. The hut had escaped notice in the darkness, he thought, but he and his wife and children were all hiding in the bushes, believing that it would certainly be discovered when daylight came.

“We seem to have blundered into the thick of them,” said Wylie, as cheerfully as he could. “Who would have thought of their making night marches all over the place like this? Well, we are quite hidden among these bushes, so I hope you ladies will get what sleep you can. We shall keep a good watch, so don’t be afraid.”

Anxious only to give as little trouble as possible, Zoe and Eirene obeyed, so far as lying down and trying to sleep went. But Zoe could not sleep, tired as she was, for she felt convinced that Wylie was keeping watch himself. At length she could bear the thought no longer, and wriggled to the entrance of her burrow, so that she could get a glimpse of him. As she had expected, he was sitting on a stone, with his rifle between his knees, but something strange in his attitude made her look at him more closely. He was crouched in a heap, his eyes wide open and glassy, and his hands had relaxed their hold in complete unconsciousness. Afraid to raise her voice to call Zeko, Zoe crawled out of her hole and took the rifle gently away without disturbing Wylie. He murmured a little incoherently when she tried to move him, and in terror lest he should cry out, she ventured to speak softly, hoping he would think he was in hospital again, and she a nurse.

“Let me help you to lie down more easily,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t think your pillow is comfortable, is it?”

She could not have moved him if he had remained obstinate, but with his own unconscious help she succeeded in getting him to lie down, with the stone for a pillow, and covering him with the cloak she had worn. Then she took the rifle, and set herself to keep watch in his place, unable, even in the circumstances of the moment, to restrain a bitter little smile at the thought, “How frightfully angry he would be if he knew!” To her great joy she felt no inclination for sleep, and she sat there, guarding the rest, and growing stiffer and stiffer with the night cold, until the first faint streaks of dawn appeared, and Zeko came crawling out from under the bushes. He expressed no surprise at finding her on guard, after her low-voiced explanation that the Lord Glafko was ill again. It was only suitable that women should keep watch while their protectors slept; in fact, it was all they could do to repay the kind care taken of them. Wylie was now in a natural sleep, and it went to Zoe’s heart to let Zeko wake him, which he did when she had crawled back into her burrow, but the few precious minutes of grey twilight must not be lost if they were to pass safely through this danger-zone. While Zeko went to the top of the hill to see if he could distinguish where they were, Wylie woke the other guards, and all were ready to start when the guide should return. There was a moment’s pause while Mikhaili crept up with an offering of goat’s-milk cheese, and a draught of milk in a leathern cup for little Constantine, and while the rest were eagerly consuming the gift of this Good Samaritan, Zeko, returning, drew Wylie aside and up the hill. There was a look of awe upon the ex-brigand’s face which Wylie did not understand until he had been bidden to kneel down and look through a gap between two rocks. On the other side of the hill, literally only a few yards from them, a number of Roumi soldiers lay asleep. Whether they were an outlying picket or stragglers from the larger force,--the confused way in which they were strewn about favoured this supposition,--the fact remained that the two parties had spent the night so near one another that a cry or an altercation in one camp must have roused its neighbour. Zeko, in a heart-felt whisper, vowed an extravagant gift of candles to the Prophet Elijah, patron saint of hills, for his services that night, and he and Wylie rejoined the rest. Mikhaili, warned of the nearness of the foe, and invited to call his wife and children and accompany the fugitives, refused to do so. Here they might hope to escape notice, he said, but the way to Ephestilo would lead from one danger to another. He put them in the right path--if that could be called a path which must avoid all tracks, since the Roumis might be making use of them--and they parted with mutual good wishes.

The sleeping Roumis were passed in safety, and for a while the way was uneventful, though rugged and difficult enough, while the bushes lasted, so convenient for concealment. But they ended suddenly, and the bare rocks made every movement of the party horribly conspicuous. Still, even in this change in the character of the country there was hope, since it showed they must be approaching the sea, and therefore Ephestilo, and Zoe and Eirene shook off their weariness and pressed on manfully. Thus they came to a height from which they could see the blue waters, and a sigh of relief broke from them. But between them and the sea there was still some distance to be traversed, and when they looked down on the country that lay beneath them, their hearts stood still. Everywhere twinkling darts of light as the sun sparkled on bayonet-points, everywhere dots of scarlet which betrayed themselves as red _tarbushes_.

“A cordon!” burst from Wylie. “They are hemming our people in. This means massacre.”

“Down, lord, down!” cried Zeko, dragging Wylie to his knees. “There are some of them behind us!”

For a moment they waited with beating hearts, hoping against hope that the figures on the sky-line had not been seen--a hope that was cut short by the swish of a bullet and a shout of triumph that the range had been found so nearly. Wylie raised himself sharply.

“Roll these stones together,” he said, setting the example himself. “We can hold out some time behind a sangar here.”

“Nay, lord!” came in protesting tones from Zeko and his men. “The accursed who are behind us cannot reach this hill for many minutes, and it will shield us from their fire. Let us rather slay the women and steal down towards the line of the miscreants in front. Then we can throw ourselves upon them and kill many more than our own number.”

“Be quiet!” said Wylie roughly. “Demo, that stone.”

The man obeyed, without enthusiasm, and the loose rocks were piled into a rough breastwork, through the interstices of which the rifles could be fired. When it was finished, Zoe crept up to Wylie, her whole frame vibrating with indignation.

“You won’t let them touch us?” she panted. “If it has to be done, you will do it yourself?”

“Don’t--don’t ask me!” His voice was full of entreaty, but Zoe was pitiless.

“You must,” she persisted. “Why, from you---- You know,” she broke off suddenly, “you hate us all.”

“If I did, it would be easy enough to do it. You know well enough it isn’t that. It’s--the very opposite.”

“Then I have a right to ask you to do it. You promise?”

“Good God, yes!” he groaned.