CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
SHEWS WHAT SOMETIMES HAPPENS IN THE TRACK OF TROOPS.
"Why, Nicholas," I exclaimed, looking round the inn, "I have been herebefore. It is--it must be--the very place where, on my way up, I saw afamous wrestling-match. Did I ever tell you about it?"
"Never; but come along, I must finish one part of my duty here withoutdelay by paying a visit. You can tell me about the wrestling-match aswe walk together."
I described the match with great interest, for my heart warmed towardsthe chief actor and his family, and as I proceeded with the narration Iobserved with some satisfaction that the road we were following led inthe direction of the cottage of Dobri Petroff. As we drew near to thepath that diverged to it I resolved, if possible, to give Nicholas, whowas evidently interested in my narrative, a surprise by confronting himunexpectedly with the blacksmith and his family.
"Nicholas," I said, "you see that cottage on the hillside? I have agreat desire to pay its inmates a visit. Have you any objection to turnaside just for a few minutes?"
Nicholas gave me a look of surprise and laughed.
"None in the world, Jeff, for it happens that I particularly wish tovisit the cottage myself."
"You do? Why--what--"
"Well, finish your question, Jeff; why should it seem strange to youthat I want to visit a Bulgarian family?"
"Why, because, Nick, this is the cottage of the very blacksmith aboutwhom I have been speaking, and I wanted to give you a surprise byintroducing him to you."
"His name?" asked Nicholas quickly.
"Dobri Petroff."
"The very man. How strange! You have already given me a surprise,Jeff, and will now add a pleasure and a service by introducing me tohim, and, perhaps, by using your powers of suasion. It is no breach ofconfidence to tell you that part of my business here is to secure theservices of this man as a guide over the Balkans, with the passes ofwhich we have been told he is intimately acquainted. But it is saidthat he is a bold independent fellow, who may dislike and refuse theduty."
"He won't dislike it at all events," said I. "He has no love for theTurks, who have treated him shamefully, just because of that same boldand independent spirit."
"Well, come, we shall see," rejoined my friend.
In a few minutes we had come to a turn in the path which brought thecottage full into view, and I experienced a sudden shock on observingthat part of it--that part which had been the forge--was a blackenedruin. I was at the same moment relieved, however, by the sight ofIvanka and little Dobri, who were playing together in front of theuninjured part of the cottage.
Next moment the tall handsome form of the blacksmith appeared stoopingunder the doorway as he came out to receive us. I noticed that therewas an expression of trouble on his countenance, mingled with a look ofsternness which was not usual to him. He did not recognise me at first,and evidently eyed Nicholas--as a Russian officer--with no favour.
As we drew near, the stern look vanished, and he sprang forward with aglad smile to seize and shake my hand. At the same moment Ivanka'sblack eyes seemed to blaze with delight, as she ran towards me, andclasped one of my legs. Little Dobri, bereft of speech, stood with legsand arms apart, and mouth and eyes wide open, gazing at me.
"All well?" I asked anxiously.
"All well," said the blacksmith; then, with a glance at theforge--"except the--; but that's not much after all.--Come in,gentlemen, come in."
We entered, and found Marika as neat and thrifty as ever, though with atouch of care about her pretty face which had not been there when Ifirst met her.
A few words explained the cause of their trouble.
"Sir," said Petroff, addressing me, but evidently speaking at Nicholas,"we unfortunate Bulgarians have hard times of it just now. The Turk hasoppressed and robbed and tortured and murdered us in time past, and nowthe Russian who has come to deliver us is, it seems to me, completingour ruin. What between the two we poor wretches have come to amiserable pass indeed."
He turned full on Nicholas, unable to repress a fierce look.
"Friend," said Nicholas gently, but firmly, "the chances of war areoften hard to bear, but you ought to recognise a great differencebetween the sufferings which are caused by wilful oppression, and thosewhich are the unavoidable consequences of a state of warfare."
"Unavoidable!" retorted the blacksmith bitterly. "Is it not possiblefor the Russians to carry supplies for their armies, instead ofdemanding all our cattle for beef and all our harvests for fodder?"
"Do we not pay you for such things?" asked Nicholas, in the tone of aman who wishes to propitiate his questioner.
"Yes, truly, but nothing like the worth of what you take; besides, ofwhat value are a few gold pieces to me? My wife and children cannot eatgold, and there is little or nothing left in the land to buy. But thatis not the worst. Your Cossacks receive nothing from your Governmentfor rations, and are allowed to forage as they will. Do you supposethat, when in want of anything, they will stop to inquire whether itbelongs to a Bulgarian or not? When the war broke out, and your troopscrossed the river, my cattle and grain were bought up, whether I wouldor no, by your soldiers. They were paid for--underpaid, I say--but thatI cared not for, as they left me one milch-cow and fodder enough to keepher. Immediately after that a band of your lawless and unrationedCossacks came, killed the cow, and took the forage, without paying foreither. After that, the Moldavians, who drive your waggon-supplies foryou--a lawless set of brigands when there are no troops near to watchthem,--cleaned my house of every scrap that was worth carrying away.What could I do? To kill a dozen of them would have been easy, but thatwould not have been the way to protect my wife and children."
The man laid his great hand tenderly on Ivanka's head, while he wasspeaking in his deep earnest voice; and Nicholas, who was well aware ofthe truth of his remarks about the Cossacks and the waggon-drivers ofthe army, expressed such genuine feeling and regret for the sufferingswith which the household had been visited, that Petroff was somewhatappeased.
"But how came your forge to be burned?" I asked, desiring to change thedrift of the conversation.
The question called up a look of ferocity on the blacksmith's face, ofwhich I had not believed it capable.
"The Turks did it," he hissed, rather than said, between his teeth."The men of this village--men whom I have served for years--men by whomI have been robbed for years, and to whose insults I have quietly andtamely submitted until now, for the sake of these," (he pointed to hiswife and children)--"became enraged at the outbreak of the war, andburned my workshop. They would have burned my cottage too, but luckilythere is a good partition-wall between it and the shop, which stayed theflames. No doubt they would have despoiled my house, as they have doneto others, but my door and windows were barricaded, and they knew whowas inside. They left me; but that which the Turks spared the Russianshave taken. Still, sir," (he turned again full on Nicholas), "I mustsay that if your Government is honest in its intentions, it is far fromwise in its methods."
"You hate the Turks, however, and are willing to serve against them?"asked Nicholas.
The blacksmith shook his shaggy locks as he raised his head.
"Ay, I hate them, and as for--"
"Oh, husband!" pleaded Marika, for the first time breaking silence, "donot take vengeance into your own hands."
"Well, as to that," returned Dobri, with a careless smile, "I have noparticular desire for vengeance; but the Turks have taken away mylivelihood; I have nothing to do, and may as well fight as anythingelse. It will at all events enable me to support you and the children.We are starving just now."
Nicholas hastened to assure the unfortunate man that his family would bespecially cared for if he would undertake to guide the Russian columnsacross the Balkan mountains. Taking him aside he then entered intoearnest converse with him about the object of his mission.
Meanwhile I had a long chat with his wife and the little ones, from whomI learned t
he sad details of the sufferings they had undergone since welast met.
"But you won't leave us now, will you?" said little Ivanka pitifully,getting on my knee and nestling on my breast; "you will stay withfather, won't you, and help to take care of us? I'm _so_ frightened!"
"Which do you fear most, dear?" said I, smoothing her hair--"the Turksor the Cossacks?"
The child seemed puzzled. "I don't know" she said, after a thoughtfulpause. "Father says the Turks are far, far worst; but mother and I fearthem both; they are so fierce--so _very_ fierce. I think they wouldhave killed us if father had been away."
Nicholas did not find it hard to persuade the blacksmith. He promisedhim a tempting reward, but it was evident that his assurance that thewife and family would be placed under the special care of theauthorities of the village, had much greater effect in causing the manto make up his mind than the prospect of reward.
It was further arranged that Petroff should accompany us at once.
"Ready," he said, when the proposal was made. "I've nothing left hereto pack up," he added, looking sadly round the poor and empty room. Inless than an hour arrangements had been made with the chief man of thevillage for the comfort and safeguard of the family during theblacksmith's absence.
It was bright noontide when we were again prepared to take the road.
"Oh, Dobri," said Marika, as in an angle of the inn-yard she bade herhusband farewell, "don't forget the Saviour--Jesus--our one hope onearth."
"God bless you, Marika; I'll never forget _you_," returned Petroff,straining his young wife to his heart.
He had already parted from the children. Next moment he was in thesaddle, and soon after was galloping with the troop to which we wereattached towards the Balkan mountains.