Read The Lady of the Shroud Page 30


  FROM THE SCRIPT OF THE VOIVODE, PETER VISSARION,

  _July_ 7, 1907.

  I had little idea, when I started on my homeward journey, that it wouldhave such a strange termination. Even I, who ever since my boyhood havelived in a whirl of adventure, intrigue, or diplomacy--whichever it maybe called--statecraft, and war, had reason to be surprised. I certainlythought that when I locked myself into my room in the hotel at Ilsin thatI would have at last a spell, however short, of quiet. All the time ofmy prolonged negotiations with the various nationalities I had to be attension; so, too, on my homeward journey, lest something at the lastmoment should happen adversely to my mission. But when I was safe on myown Land of the Blue Mountains, and laid my head on my pillow, where onlyfriends could be around me, I thought I might forget care.

  But to wake with a rude hand over my mouth, and to feel myself graspedtight by so many hands that I could not move a limb, was a dreadfulshock. All after that was like a dreadful dream. I was rolled in agreat rug so tightly that I could hardly breathe, let alone cry out.Lifted by many hands through the window, which I could hear was softlyopened and shut for the purpose, and carried to a boat. Again liftedinto some sort of litter, on which I was borne a long distance, but withconsiderable rapidity. Again lifted out and dragged through a doorwayopened on purpose--I could hear the clang as it was shut behind me. Thenthe rug was removed, and I found myself, still in my night-gear, in themidst of a ring of men. There were two score of them, all Turks, allstrong-looking, resolute men, armed to the teeth. My clothes, which hadbeen taken from my room, were thrown down beside me, and I was told todress. As the Turks were going from the room--shaped like a vault--wherewe then were, the last of them, who seemed to be some sort of officer,said:

  "If you cry out or make any noise whatever whilst you are in this Tower,you shall die before your time!" Presently some food and water werebrought me, and a couple of blankets. I wrapped myself up and slept tillearly in the morning. Breakfast was brought, and the same men filed in.In the presence of them all the same officer said:

  "I have given instructions that if you make any noise or betray yourpresence to anyone outside this Tower, the nearest man is to restore youto immediate quiet with his yataghan. It you promise me that you willremain quiet whilst you are within the Tower, I can enlarge yourliberties somewhat. Do you promise?" I promised as he wished; there wasno need to make necessary any stricter measure of confinement. Anychance of escape lay in having the utmost freedom allowed to me.Although I had been taken away with such secrecy, I knew that before longthere would be pursuit. So I waited with what patience I could. I wasallowed to go on the upper platform--a consideration due, I am convinced,to my captors' wish for their own comfort rather than for mine.

  It was not very cheering, for during the daytime I had satisfied myselfthat it would be quite impossible for even a younger and more active manthan I am to climb the walls. They were built for prison purposes, and acat could not find entry for its claws between the stones. I resignedmyself to my fate as well as I could. Wrapping my blanket round me, Ilay down and looked up at the sky. I wished to see it whilst I could. Iwas just dropping to sleep--the unutterable silence of the place brokenonly now and again by some remark by my captors in the rooms belowme--when there was a strange appearance just over me--an appearance sostrange that I sat up, and gazed with distended eyes.

  Across the top of the tower, some height above, drifted, slowly andsilently, a great platform. Although the night was dark, it was so muchdarker where I was within the hollow of the Tower that I could actuallysee what was above me. I knew it was an aeroplane--one of which I hadseen in Washington. A man was seated in the centre, steering; and besidehim was a silent figure of a woman all wrapped in white. It made myheart beat to see her, for she was figured something like my Teuta, butbroader, less shapely. She leaned over, and a whispered "Ssh!" creptdown to me. I answered in similar way. Whereupon she rose, and the manlowered her down into the Tower. Then I saw that it was my dear daughterwho had come in this wonderful way to save me. With infinite haste shehelped me to fasten round my waist a belt attached to a rope, which wascoiled round her; and then the man, who was a giant in strength as wellas stature, raised us both to the platform of the aeroplane, which he setin motion without an instant's delay.

  Within a few seconds, and without any discovery being made of my escape,we were speeding towards the sea. The lights of Ilsin were in front ofus. Before reaching the town, however, we descended in the midst of alittle army of my own people, who were gathered ready to advance upon theSilent Tower, there to effect, if necessary, my rescue by force. Smallchance would there have been of my life in case of such a struggle.Happily, however, the devotion and courage of my dear daughter and of hergallant companion prevented such a necessity. It was strange to me tofind such joyous reception amongst my friends expressed in such awhispered silence. There was no time for comment or understanding or theasking of questions--I was fain to take things as they stood, and waitfor fuller explanation.

  This came later, when my daughter and I were able to converse alone.

  When the expedition went out against the Silent Tower, Teuta and I wentto her tent, and with us came her gigantic companion, who seemed notwearied, but almost overcome with sleep. When we came into the tent,over which at a little distance a cordon of our mountaineers stood onguard, he said to me:

  "May I ask you, sir, to pardon me for a time, and allow the Voivodin toexplain matters to you? She will, I know, so far assist me, for there isso much work still to be done before we are free of the present peril.For myself, I am almost overcome with sleep. For three nights I have hadno sleep, but all during that time much labour and more anxiety. I couldhold on longer; but at daybreak I must go out to the Turkish warship thatlies in the offing. She is a Turk, though she does not confess to it;and she it is who has brought hither the marauders who captured both yourdaughter and yourself. It is needful that I go, for I hold a personalauthority from the National Council to take whatever step may benecessary for our protection. And when I go I should be clear-headed,for war may rest on that meeting. I shall be in the adjoining tent, andshall come at once if I am summoned, in case you wish for me beforedawn." Here my daughter struck in:

  "Father, ask him to remain here. We shall not disturb him, I am sure, inour talking. And, moreover, if you knew how much I owe to him--to hisown bravery and his strength--you would understand how much safer I feelwhen he is close to me, though we are surrounded by an army of our bravemountaineers."

  "But, my daughter," I said, for I was as yet all in ignorance, "there areconfidences between father and daughter which none other may share. Someof what has been I know, but I want to know all, and it might be betterthat no stranger--however valiant he may be, or no matter in what measurewe are bound to him--should be present." To my astonishment, she who hadalways been amenable to my lightest wish actually argued with me:

  "Father, there are other confidences which have to be respected in likewise. Bear with me, dear, till I have told you all, and I am right surethat you will agree with me. I ask it, father."

  That settled the matter, and as I could see that the gallant gentlemanwho had rescued me was swaying on his feet as he waited respectfully, Isaid to him:

  "Rest with us, sir. We shall watch over your sleep."

  Then I had to help him, for almost on the instant he sank down, and I hadto guide him to the rugs spread on the ground. In a few seconds he wasin a deep sleep. As I stood looking at him, till I had realized that hevas really asleep, I could not help marvelling at the bounty of Naturethat could uphold even such a man as this to the last moment of work tobe done, and then allow so swift a collapse when all was over, and hecould rest peacefully.

  He was certainly a splendid fellow. I think I never saw so fine a manphysically in my life. And if the lesson of his physiognomy be true, heis as sterling inwardly
as his external is fair. "Now," said I to Teuta,"we are to all intents quite alone. Tell me all that has been, so that Imay understand."

  Whereupon my daughter, making me sit down, knelt beside me, and told mefrom end to end the most marvellous story I had ever heard or read of.Something of it I had already known from the Archbishop Paleologue'slater letters, but of all else I was ignorant. Far away in the greatWest beyond the Atlantic, and again on the fringe of the Eastern seas, Ihad been thrilled to my heart's core by the heroic devotion and fortitudeof my daughter in yielding herself for her country's sake to that fearfulordeal of the Crypt; of the grief of the nation at her reported death,news of which was so mercifully and wisely withheld from me as long aspossible; of the supernatural rumours that took root so deep; but no wordor hint had come to me of a man who had come across the orbit of herlife, much less of all that has resulted from it. Neither had I known ofher being carried off, or of the thrice gallant rescue of her by Rupert.Little wonder that I thought so highly of him even at the first moment Ihad a clear view of him when he sank down to sleep before me. Why, theman must be a marvel. Even our mountaineers could not match suchendurance as his. In the course of her narrative my daughter told me ofhow, being wearied with her long waiting in the tomb, and waking to findherself alone when the floods were out, and even the Crypt submerged, shesought safety and warmth elsewhere; and how she came to the Castle in thenight, and found the strange man alone. I said: "That was dangerous,daughter, if not wrong. The man, brave and devoted as he is, must answerme--your father." At that she was greatly upset, and before going onwith her narrative, drew me close in her arms, and whispered to me:

  "Be gentle to me, father, for I have had much to bear. And be good tohim, for he holds my heart in his breast!" I reassured her with a gentlepressure--there was no need to speak. She then went on to tell me abouther marriage, and how her husband, who had fallen into the belief thatshe was a Vampire, had determined to give even his soul for her; and howshe had on the night of the marriage left him and gone back to the tombto play to the end the grim comedy which she had undertaken to performtill my return; and how, on the second night after her marriage, as shewas in the garden of the Castle--going, as she shyly told me, to see ifall was well with her husband--she was seized secretly, muffled up,bound, and carried off. Here she made a pause and a digression.Evidently some fear lest her husband and myself should quarrel assailedher, for she said:

  "Do understand, father, that Rupert's marriage to me was in all waysregular, and quite in accord with our customs. Before we were married Itold the Archbishop of my wish. He, as your representative during yourabsence, consented himself, and brought the matter to the notice of theVladika and the Archimandrites. All these concurred, having exacted fromme--very properly, I think--a sacred promise to adhere to myself-appointed task. The marriage itself was orthodox in allways--though so far unusual that it was held at night, and in darkness,save for the lights appointed by the ritual. As to that, the Archbishophimself, or the Archimandrite of Spazac, who assisted him, or theVladika, who acted as Paranymph, will, all or any of them, give you fulldetails. Your representative made all inquiries as to Rupert Sent Leger,who lived in Vissarion, though he did not know who I was, or from hispoint of view who I had been. But I must tell you of my rescue."

  And so she went on to tell me of that unavailing journey south by hercaptors; of their bafflement by the cordon which Rupert had establishedat the first word of danger to "the daughter of our leader," though helittle knew who the "leader" was, or who was his "daughter"; of how thebrutal marauders tortured her to speed with their daggers; and how herwounds left blood-marks on the ground as she passed along; then of thehalt in the valley, when the marauders came to know that their road northwas menaced, if not already blocked; of the choosing of the murderers,and their keeping ward over her whilst their companions went to surveythe situation; and of her gallant rescue by that noble fellow, herhusband--my son I shall call him henceforth, and thank God that I mayhave that happiness and that honour!

  Then my daughter went on to tell me of the race back to Vissarion, whenRupert went ahead of all--as a leader should do; of the summoning of theArchbishop and the National Council; and of their placing the nation'shandjar in Rupert's hand; of the journey to Ilsin, and the flight of mydaughter--and my son--on the aeroplane.

  The rest I knew.

  As she finished, the sleeping man stirred and woke--broad awake in asecond--sure sign of a man accustomed to campaign and adventure. At aglance he recalled everything that had been, and sprang to his feet. Hestood respectfully before me for a few seconds before speaking. Then hesaid, with an open, engaging smile:

  "I see, sir, you know all. Am I forgiven--for Teuta's sake as well as myown?" By this time I was also on my feet. A man like that walksstraight into my heart. My daughter, too, had risen, and stood by myside. I put out my hand and grasped his, which seemed to leap to meetme--as only the hand of a swordsman can do.

  "I am glad you are my son!" I said. It was all I could say, and I meantit and all it implied. We shook hands warmly. Teuta was pleased; shekissed me, and then stood holding my arm with one hand, whilst she linkedher other hand in the arm of her husband.

  He summoned one of the sentries without, and told him to ask CaptainRooke to come to him. The latter had been ready for a call, and came atonce. When through the open flap of the tent we saw him coming,Rupert--as I must call him now, because Teuta wishes it; and I like to doit myself--said:

  "I must be off to board the Turkish vessel before it comes inshore.Good-bye, sir, in case we do not meet again." He said the last few wordsin so low a voice that I only could hear them. Then he kissed his wife,and told her he expected to be back in time for breakfast, and was gone.He met Rooke--I am hardly accustomed to call him Captain as yet, though,indeed, he well deserves it--at the edge of the cordon of sentries, andthey went quickly together towards the port, where the yacht was lyingwith steam up.