Part 44 (1/2)

”Yes!” groaned the helpless man.

He was instantly disarmed, and bound by the girth to a horse.

FOOTNOTES:

[107] Vide Knowles, History of the Turks, and Albanian Chronicles.

[108] Modern Alessio.

CHAPTER LIV.

The corps of Janizaries had been quartered at some distance from the main body of the Turks. Their new Aga comprehended at once the significance of the turmoil in the camp, and hastened to the defence.

Though he moved rapidly, and with a well conceived plan of confronting the enemy, yet, most of his troops being foot-soldiers, he was unable to confront the swift-riding squadrons of Scanderbeg. These a.s.sailants withdrew from the field, but only to return again and again upon the panic stricken Turks, whose fears had magnified the numbers of their foes into scores of thousands. So rapidly did a.s.sault follow a.s.sault, and from such diverse quarters, that the Moslem fright imagined one attack was headed by the terrible Ivan Beg with his savage Montenegrins, and another by Hunyades, a report of whose alliance with Scanderbeg had reached the camps before the battle. Indeed the rumble of a coming thunder storm was interpreted into the clamor and tread of unknown myriads ready to burst through the mountains. Never did a more insane panic steal away the courage of soldiers and the judgment of generals. Late in the day the plain of Pharsalia was the scene of one vast wreck. Overturned tents displayed immense stores of burnished arms and vestments, provisions of need and luxury, standards for the field and banners for the pageant; and everywhere strewn amid this debris of pomp and pride the half-armored bodies of the slaughtered Turks. In narrow mountain valleys the freshet following the sudden tempest, never changed the bloom of the summer gardens more completely, than this panic, following Scanderbeg's raid, changed the splendid camp of the morning into the desolation upon which the setting sun cast, as a fitting omen, its red rays. Indeed, we can conceive no similitude by which to express the contrast better than that of Amesa himself, in the morning adorned in the splendor of his royal expectation, and at night lying bound with ropes at the feet of Scanderbeg.

The grand old chieftain looked at the renegade for a moment with pity and scorn; then turned away, saying,--

”Let him lie there until Captain Constantine, to whom he belongs, shall come.”

But Constantine came not. Though the main body of the Turks had taken to precipitate flight, the Janizaries had managed, by their unbroken and orderly retreat, to cover the rear, and prevent pursuit by Scanderbeg. Ballaban had reached the group engaged in the capture of Amesa, and almost rescued him. This would have been accomplished had not Constantine and a handful of his company made a living wall between the Janizaries and those who were leading away the miserable man. Ballaban, feeling the responsibility of saving him whom he had led into this shameful misfortune, pressed to the very front.

”By the sword of the Prophet! the fellow fights bravely,” he exclaimed, as he watched Constantine, baffling a half dozen Janizaries who were pressing upon him.

”Back, men! I would measure my arm against his,” he cried, as he laid his sword against that of his unknown antagonist.

Both were in complete armor, their faces concealed by the closed helmets. The soldiers stood as eager spectators of the masterly sword play. The two men seemed evenly matched,--the same in stature and build. There was, too, a surprising similarity in movement--the very tactics of the Janizary in thrust and parry being repeated by the Albanian; their swords now flas.h.i.+ng like interlacing flames; the sharp ring as the Albanian smote upon the polished metal of his antagonist's armor, answered by the duller thud as the Janizary's blow fell upon the thick leather which encased the panoply of his opponent. Then both stood as if posing for the sculptor; their sword points crossing; their eyes glaring beneath the visors; the slightest movement of a muscle antic.i.p.ated by either--then again the crash.

But Constantine was exhausted by his previous engagement with Amesa.

In an unlucky moment the sword turned in his hand. The steadiness of the grip was lost. He managed to ward the blow which the Aga delivered; but, foreseeing that he could not recover his grasp soon enough to return it, and that his opponent was thrown slightly off his perfect poise by his exertion, he dropped his sword, and closed with him. They fell to the ground; but the Aga, more alert at the instant, was uppermost, and his dagger first in position for the fatal cut.

”I can not slay so valiant a man as you,” said Ballaban. ”You surrender?”

”I must,” was the response. As they rose, Ballaban looked a moment upon the vanquished, and said,

”I would know the name of my worthy antagonist, for worthier I never found. Scanderbeg himself could not have done better. But I had the advantage of being in better wind at the start, or, Allah knows, I had fared hard.”

”It is enough that I am your prisoner,” said Constantine, ”and that I have detained my conqueror long enough to prevent the recapture of that Albanian traitor, Amesa. You can have me willingly, now that you cannot have him.”

The Albanian threw up his visor. Ballaban stared at the face. It was as familiar as his own which he saw daily in the polished bra.s.s mirror. The Janizaries stared with almost equal amazement.

”No wonder he fought so well, Aga!” said one, ”for he is thy other self.”

”Let him be brought to our headquarters when we halt,” said Ballaban, remounting his horse, and das.h.i.+ng away to another part of the field.

CHAPTER LV.