Part 19 (1/2)

”'Tis a slave,” said Tepelenti, regarding the head more closely. ”Dost thou not see? His ears have been cropped, so that he may not wear ear-rings in them, which only great lords may do.”

”Then Zaid has gone free!”

”Zaid will be among the captives,” said Tepelenti. ”I would recognize him amongst a thousand. He was my favorite grandson. His image even now is engraved in my heart.”

Then they went down amongst the captives. Ali had scarce cast a glance at them when he pointed with his finger.

”There he is! Dost thou not perceive how much paler his face is than the faces of the others?”

Kleon wrathfully drew his sword and would have rushed upon the person indicated, but Ali held his hand.

”What doest thou? Wouldst thou slay my grandson before my very eyes?”

”Thou didst ask for his head, and it shall be thine.”

”But now I ask for his life, Kleon. Zaid is my favorite grandson. I brought him up. I loved him better than his dear mother--better than all my children. Look now, I share with thee all the booty, and all I ask of thee is mine own--flesh of my flesh.”

The unhappy youth, hearing these words, fell at Ali's feet and embraced his knees, wept, covered his hands with kisses, and implored him to release him--he would be a good and dutiful son to him ever afterwards.

”Thou seest, too, how much he loves me,” said Ali, looking with tearful eyes at Zaid and covering the cowering fugitive with his long gray beard. ”Well, Zaid,” said he, ”so thou dost now fly for refuge beneath the shadow of that same gray beard, by grasping which thou wert minded to take Ali's head to thy mother, eh?”

Kleon looked at Ali Pasha with a contemptuous smile. Then Ali was tender, Ali had a heart, Ali's heart ached at the slaying of his kinsfolk! The Greek felt a cruel satisfaction in tormenting the pasha.

”If thou dost not wish to see Zaid die,” said he, ”depart from hence.

Alive thou shalt not have him!”

”What!” cried Ali, and, standing erect, he drew his sword. ”Because my beard is long dost thou think thou canst trample upon me? I will defend my blood with my blood, and will perish myself rather than let him be slain. Let us see, mad youth, wouldst thou lop off thine own right hand?”

Kleon was so surprised that he did not know what to do. It was in his power to slay Ali; but then that would be a greater triumph for Stambul than all the victories of the campaign.

At that moment a herald arrived from Odysseus with a command for Kleon to send all the Turkish officers captured at the battle of Pulo to Prevesa, that they might be exchanged against the youths of the sacred army who had been captured in Moldavia.

Kleon's pride was wounded by this direct command. He considered himself just as good a general as Odysseus or Yprilanti, and did not recognize orders sent from them.

Turning from the herald to Tepelenti, he thus replied:

”Tell Odysseus that I and my soldiers are in the habit of killing the enemy's officers on the battle-field. Only one of them, and he in disguise, remains. He, however, is Tepelenti's grandson, who has recognized him and ransomed him from me for a hundred thousand piastres, which he has engaged to pay me within an hour. Is it not so, Tepelenti?”

”It is so,” said Ali; ”within an hour the hundred thousand piastres shall be in thy hands.”

Zaid, with a shriek of joy, kissed the hem of his grandfather's robe, and Kleon gave his hand upon the bargain. An hour later the money arrived in little hogsheads, and he had it weighed in the presence of his captains. Ali, however, binding his grandson by the left arm, and giving him his own caftan, had him conducted into the fortress of Janina.

Kleon looked contemptuously after him. So the old man had become soft-hearted! How he had wept and supplicated and paid for this youth, who was his favorite grandson!

An hour later the roll of drums was heard on the bastions of Janina, and when the Greeks looked in that direction they saw the stake of execution erected there. Four black executioners were carrying Zaid, who had his hands tied behind his back, and was wearing the self-same caftan which Ali had given him. Ali himself, mounted on a black horse, rode right up to the stake. At a signal from him the executioners hoisted Zaid into the air, and a moment later Tepelenti's favorite grandson, whom he had dandled so often on his knee, was done to death by the most excruciating torments!

Ali watched his death-agony with the utmost _sang-froid_, and, when all was over, he shouted down from the bastions with a strong, firm voice, ”So perish all those of Tepelenti's kinsfolk who draw the sword against him! For them there is no mercy!”

Kleon felt his heart's blood grow cold. Ah! he had much, very much to learn from the agonized cries of the dying before he could overtake Ali, that old man who weeps, prays, and pays, in order to rescue his favorite grandson for the sole purpose of killing him himself with refined tortures!