Part 42 (1/2)

The Sultan not appearing, there rose another cry, at first only a murmur, but at length pouring from thousands of hoa.r.s.e throats,--

”Down with Mahomet! Live the Yeni-Tscheri!”

Still the Sultan made no response. There was a hurried consultation among the leaders of the insurgents. Then a rapid movement throughout the crowd. For a moment it seemed as if they had turned every man against his fellow. But Mahomet's experienced eye, as he watched from the latticed window, saw that the swarm of men was only taking shape.

The mob was transformed into companies. Between the ranks pa.s.sed men, as if they rose out of the ground; some dragging cannon; some bearing scaling ladders.

Mahomet appeared upon the platform, dressed in full armor. He raised his sword, when silence fell upon the mult.i.tude.

”I am your Padishah.”

”Long live Mahomet!” was the cry.

”Do I not command every faithful Ottoman? Who will follow where Mahomet leads?”

”All! all!” rang the response.

”Then reverse the kettle!” commanded he, his face lit with the a.s.sumption of victory.

”Reverse the firman!” was the answer.

”Never!” cried the monarch, infuriated with this unexpected challenge of his authority.

The Janizaries retreated a few steps from the platform. The Padishah a.s.sumed that they were awed by his determination, and smiled in his triumph. But his face was as quickly shaded with astonishment; for the movement of the insurgents was only to allow the cannon to be advanced.

The sagacity of the monarch never forsook him. Not even the wildness of pa.s.sion could long lead him beyond the suggestion of policy.

Raising his hand for silence, he again spoke.

”We are misunderstanding each other, my brave Yeni-Tscheri. If you have grievance let your Agas present it, for the Padishah shall be the father of his people, and the Yeni-Tscheri are the eldest born of his children.”

The Sultan withdrew. Eight Agas held a hurried consultation, and presented themselves to the sovereign to offer him absolute and unquestioning obedience upon the condition of their retaining as absolute and unquestioned self-government within the corps.

While they were in consultation, Captain Ballaban appeared among the troops. He waved his hand to address them.

”He is bought by the Padishah. We must not hear him,” cried one and another.

”My brothers!” said the Captain, having after a few moments gained their attention. ”I love the Padishah. But I adore that royal hand chiefly because, beyond that of any of the heirs of Othman, it has already bestowed favor upon our corps. But our order is sacred. He may command to the field, and in the field, but it must be from without.

We must choose our own Aga as of old.”

”Long live Ballaban!” rose from every side.

The speaker broke into a rhapsodic narration of the glories of the corps, interwoven with the recital of the exploits of the Padishah, during which he was interrupted by cheer after cheer, mingled with the cry of ”Ballaban! Ballaban forever!”

The Sultan, hearing the shout, shrewdly seized upon the opportunity it suggested, and leaving the Agas, rushed to the platform. He shouted--

”Allah be praised! Allah has given one mind to the Padishah and to his faithful Yeni-Tscheri. Ballaban forever! Yes, take him! Take him for your Aga! The will of the corps and the will of the sovereign are one, for it is the will of Allah that sways us all!”