Part 17 (1/2)
”My mother!” said Gerald, who had suddenly grown grave. ”Yes, I shall have a hard struggle with her. No matter! The battle must be fought.
Not a word more, George!” he cried, interrupting the young soldier, who was about to speak. ”You know I submit to many liberties of speech from you where the matter concerns only myself, but there my indulgence ends. From this moment you must respect in Danira Hersovac my future wife: remember it and govern yourself accordingly.”
”Perhaps we shall both be killed first!” said George, in a tone which seemed to imply that it would afford him special consolation. ”I don't believe this bewitched spring is a protection against murder, and if the enemy doesn't finish us, the confounded rock hanging in the air yonder will. It moved when the _bora_ just blew so madly. I saw it distinctly. It actually nodded to me, as if it wanted to say: 'Just wait, I'll drop down on your heads!'”
He pointed upward and Gerald's eyes followed the direction indicated.
The white moonbeams flooded the dark stone without being able to lend it any light. Gloomy and threatening, like a gigantic shadow, the rock overhung the entrance of the ravine, and the s.h.i.+mmering moon-rays produced such an illusion that it seemed to the young officer as though the summit had actually sunk lower and the opening had grown smaller, but he shook his head in denial.
”Nonsense! Surely you heard that the rock had leaned so for centuries.
It has endured far different storms from this one; even the fiercest _bora_ can do nothing against this unyielding stone. At any rate this is our best position for defense. Our backs are protected, and we can watch the approach of the enemy--hark! What was that? Did you hear nothing?”
The two men listened intently George too had started, for he also had heard a strange noise, but the wind drowned it entirely. A long time pa.s.sed, then the _bora_ lulled a few minutes, and now they distinctly heard, at no very great distance, the sound of footsteps and voices, which, judging by the echo, belonged to a large body of men.
”There they are!” said Gerald, who, in the presence of danger, had completely regained his coolness; his voice scarcely betrayed a trace of excitement. ”Come here by my side, George! We'll keep together so long as we can hold out. They shall at least see that they have to deal with men who will not let themselves be slaughtered without resistance.”
George accepted the invitation and stationed himself by his lieutenant's side, but could not help in this critical moment uttering a last hurried prayer to his patron saint.
”Saint George! I've never bothered you much with pet.i.tions, and always helped myself wherever it was possible, but there's no chance here. You know I haven't been a bad fellow, except for my love of brawling and fighting, but you liked it too, Saint George! You always struck about with your sword and hewed down the dragon, so that it could only writhe. So help us fight, or rather fight with us, for we can never conquer alone. And if you will not do that, at least grant us a blessed end, and take the poor little pagan, Jovica, under your protection, so that she can be baptized and meet us some day in heaven--Amen!”
Jovica! That was the last thought of the young Tyrolese, even later than his soul's salvation; he wanted at least to have the satisfaction of seeing her again in heaven.
”Are you ready?” asked Gerald, who had not lost sight of the entrance a moment, though he heard the murmuring of his companion. George drew himself up resolutely.
”Ready, Herr Lieutenant! The praying is finished, now it's time for the fighting, and I don't think I shall disgrace my patron saint.”
The men stood side by side, grasping their weapons firmly in their hands ready for an attack, which, it is true, merely afforded them the hope of an honorable death, for if it once came to fighting they were lost, but minute after minute pa.s.sed, and the a.s.sault was not made.
The entrance to the ravine was open and unguarded, and the pursuers had now reached it.
Their voices, raised in loud, angry tones, were distinctly heard in the pauses of the storm, but no one appeared, no one crossed the threshold of the rock gateway; an invisible barrier kept them back.
An anxious quarter of an hour, which seemed endless, pa.s.sed in this perplexing quiet. Sometimes, single figures, standing in dark, sharp relief against the starry sky, appeared high up on the edge of the ravine, evidently trying to obtain a view of the bottom. Their weapons glittered in the moonlight, but not a shot was fired. At last they vanished again, while the confused roar of the tempest grew still louder and fiercer than before.
”Strange! They really do not dare to approach the spring!” said Gerald in a low tone. ”Danira is right, the tradition will be respected, even against the enemy--I would not have believed it.”
”This is getting tiresome, Herr Lieutenant,” replied George. ”Here we've been standing for more than half an hour, perfectly resigned to our fate and ready to be murdered--of course, after we've killed half a dozen of the enemy--and now nothing happens! This is evidently witchcraft. These people fear neither death nor devil, and yet are afraid of water.”
”Then we will remain under the protection of this water. You heard the caution; not a step beyond that rock! Whatever they try, whatever happens, we will not quit the spring until help comes--if it comes at all.”
The last words sounded gloomy and despairing, the young officer was thinking of all the possibilities that might detain Danira on her way to the fort, but George said confidently:
”Our comrades won't leave us in the lurch, nor Saint George either. He will have some consideration and help an honest Tyrolese against this band of murderers. It would have been a pity about us both, Herr Lieutenant. I'm in no hurry to die yet. I think there will be plenty of time for that, fifty years hence, and it would be too bad to have the Moosbach Farm go to strangers.”
With these words George leaned comfortably against the cliff, and began to imagine the fifty years and picture Jovica's delight when he entered the fort alive and well. He finally came to the conclusion that an earthly meeting of this sort would be preferable to a union in heaven, especially as, owing to his foundling's paganism, the latter was somewhat doubtful.
Hour after hour elapsed; the night began to wane, the stars shone less brightly, then one by one vanished, and the cold, gray dawn, rested on the earth. The _bora_, too, had almost ceased. It only blew occasionally in violent gusts that raged with redoubled power, but the pauses between constantly lengthened, the storm was evidently nearly over.
Outside the ravine containing the Vila spring was the band of pursuers who, with dogged, tireless endurance, had waited there for hours.
Danira knew her race and especially Marco Obrevic. She was well aware that he would not leave the track of his foe, though he would not dare to approach the spring. In fact he had not yet ventured to do so, but now his unruly nature seemed to triumph over the barrier that restrained it.
A dispute had evidently broken out among the men; their voices rose in loud altercation, Marco's loudest of all. He was standing in the midst of his companions, towering in height above them all, but his bearing was menacing and defiant, as if he were in the act of carrying out his will by force.