Volume Three—Chapter Seven.

We must return again to take a glance at the patriot camp on the Ubin. Except the slight skirmishes already described, nothing of importance had been effected, and as the winter was now fast approaching, the Russians appeared to contemplate no further movement.

A council of war was one day held in a grove, away from the din and bustle of the camp, at which were present, among many of the Princes and nobles of Circassia; Arslan Gherrei, his son and the Hadji, when shots were heard announcing the arrival of some other chief, and presently a band of wild horsemen were seen approaching, dressed in skins and furs, of some of the mountain Tartar tribes.

At their head, rode the Khan Khoros Kaloret; who, after dismounting, singly approached the council ring. The chiefs stood up as he stepped boldly amongst them. His looks were fierce and angry, as his glance passed round on the assembled nobles, who could ill brook his haughty mien. At length, one of the most ancient addressed him—

“Why come you here, Khan, to interrupt our conference? Have you any tidings of importance to communicate?”

“Why come I here?” echoed the Khan, furiously. “Think you, I come for idle sport? No, I come to claim my brother’s blood at your hands. Say, where he is, or I may not continue to be a friend to any here. Say, where is my brother?”

“We know not of your brother, Khan; we have spoken our answer.”

“Does my brother, live? I ask you,” said the Khan.

“We know not of your brother,” answered the former speaker.

“To you then, Uzden Arslan Gherrei, I appeal,” said the Khan. “I sent him to you, to bring back your daughter as my bride; and since he left your house, none of my clansmen know aught of him. At your hands, I require him.”

“Your brother, Khan, quitted my house free to go where he willed. I cannot tell you of him more,” answered the chieftain—

The Khan glanced fiercely around him for a few seconds, without speaking; during which, the members of the council moved to a farther distance, and resumed their seats; leaving the enraged Khan, standing alone; a customary ana sufficient signal, that his presence was not required. The Khan stood irresolute for a few minutes; then, against all rules of established ceremony, again approached them.

“Chieftain,” he cried, addressing Arslan Gherrei; “again, I ask you, where is my brother? If dead, say who slew him, that I may know my enemy; or, if he fell before the foe, why brought you not away his corpse, and arms?”

“Khan,” answered the chief; “is it not enough to say, that I cannot tell you of your brother? then ask me no more.”

Saying which, the whole body returned to their former position, leaving the Khan alone. He again followed them, when the council slowly rising, the aged chief, who had before spoken, again addressed him:

“Twice have we warned you, Khan, not to question us of your brother. Now learn his fate; he died a traitor’s death—fighting in our foemen’s ranks, he fell, attempting treachery. He lies now amongst a heap of cursed Urus; his name disgraced and blotted from our memories. Now go, and ask no more of him. His name is foul.”

“Chieftain, whoever says my brother died a traitor’s death, lies black as Eblis. Back in his mouth, I’ll throw the calumny,” cried the Khan. “My brother was ever a foe to Russia, and deeply will I avenge his slandered honour.”

At these words, the chiefs half drew their swords; but, recollecting that he stood one among many, and having compassion upon him for his grief, and his brother’s crime and death, they returned them to their scabbards, and spoke not.

“Uzden Arslan Gherrei, from henceforth know me as your deadly foe,” cried the Khan; “whatever death my brother died, ’twas you that caused it, and I will have revenge, if I die to gain it.”

Uttering which, with a fierce tone and aspect, he strode from the spot, mounting his war horse, rode furiously from the camp, followed by the troop of his wild clansmen, without waiting to salute any of the chiefs he met.

We must leave the Khan to pursue his headlong course, while we follow the movements of the Baron Galetzoff, and the small army under his command. After marching from Anapa, they proceeded to the newly erected fort, we have described on the south side of the Kouban, which was built on slightly elevated ground, at no great distance; though beyond gun shot of the range of mountains, which girt the territories to which the tribes of the Attèghèi are now confined. On the other side extended a broad plain, formed of the marshes of the Kouban, from which the heats of summer draw forth the noxious miasma, so prejudicial to the health of the soldiers; but the flat marshy nature of the country, added to the security of the position, lessens the chance of a surprise, and gives full scope for the deadly fire of grape and rockets.

The fort had been commenced under the protection of a large force; and the Baron was now employed in forming fresh entrenchments, and taking every means to strengthen his position; waiting in hopes of some opportunity occurring to revenge himself for the losses he had sustained. No houses had as yet been built; the troops living in wretched huts hastily constructed of mud and boughs, and the officers in their tents.

Towards the close of the day, the Baron was seated in his tent, when his aide-de-camp announced to him that one of the chiefs of the enemy, with a flag of truce, desired an audience immediately.

“Let him be admitted,” said the General. “We may at length have awed some of these barbarians into subjection.”

The Baron rose to receive his guest as the officer returned, ushering in a tall ferocious looking warrior, his heavy sword clashing against his armour, as with a fearless step he entered the tent. The General started when he saw him; for he thought of the young Khan to whose death he had been instrumental, and of his squire whom he had unjustly shot, as gazing earnestly at the stranger, he almost fancied the dead stood before him. For a few moments neither spoke, as the civilised European commander confronted the wild warrior of the mountains, who returned his glance with a haughty and seemingly contemptuous stare. At length, banishing his superstitious fears, he spoke.

“Who are you, chief, that thus venture into the camp of the Russians?”

“I am Kaloret Khan,” answered the chief in a fierce tone.

At the sound of that name the Baron started, laying his hand upon his sword to prepare himself for the expected attack.

“Fear not,” said the Khan in a contemptuous tone, “I come not to do you harm. Did I wish to kill you, I could have done so ere this. See!” he added, pointing to the opening of the tent, before which one of his wild clansmen was holding his war horse. “I could have struck you dead, and mounted my fleet steed, leaping your paltry entrenchments, before one of your slow-moving soldiers could have stopped me. No, Russian, I come not to harm you.”

“For what purpose do you come here? What ask you?” said the General.

“I come,” answered the Khan, frowning darkly, and clenching his gauntleted hand, “I come to seek revenge.”

“A goodly feeling, and one that should be encouraged by all brave men,” answered the Baron. “And on whom do you seek it?”

“On those who have injured me. On a chieftain, Arslan Gherrei, who refused to let his daughter be my wife; and shall I tamely brook such an insult? I would bear the girl away, in spite of her refusal; I would revenge myself upon him for my brother’s death; who is said to have come to ask your aid to carry off the chieftain’s daughter, when he died by the hand of Selem, his newly found son.”

“You have heard truly, Khan,” answered the General. “Say, how can I assist you in your wishes, and I will gladly hold the hand of friendship forth to you.”

“I would bring hither the daughter of the chieftain, for I must quit my mountain home, my flocks and herds, and come to join you with my followers.”

“You speak wisely, Khan,” said the Baron. “You shall be received with open arms; but you must also bring this son of Arslan Gherrei, and his youthful page, and also a Russian officer, who lately escaped when under sentence of death. I will, in return, promise you lands, flocks, and herds to supply those you have left.”

“You speak of Selem Gherrei, Russian,” exclaimed the Khan. “It were easier far to entrap the savage boar, and bring him willingly along, than to bring alive before you any of the chiefs of the Attèghèi. But I will try; and, if I fail, it shall not be for want of hatred and revenge to prompt me.”

“Bring him alive, if possible; if not, bring me his corpse, and you will be welcome. There are others I would secure—his squire, and a slow, heavy slave, who is probably about his person.”

“I have already said I will do my best to please you,” said the Khan haughtily, “and now I must depart.”

“Farewell, until you return with your prisoners,” rejoined the Russian.

“Chieftain of Russia,” responded the Khan, “you will see me soon again. I tarry not in my revenge.”

Saying which Khoros Kaloret strode from the tent with the same haughty air with which he had entered, and, mounting his horse, galloped off.

“There goes a traitor,” said the Baron, following him with his eye as he rode off; “and if there were a few more like him, we might soon rightly call the fair lands of Circassia our own. I think I can trust that barbarian, with revenge for his motive of action; and if he brings Arslan Gherrei’s daughter, I shall have a hold upon him he cannot easily break through.”

He then summoned Count Erintoff to his presence.

“Ah! Colonel,” he said, as the Count entered, “I have at length a hope of punishing those who have hitherto escaped my vengeance.”

“I am rejoiced to hear it, General,” said the Count. “We owe it as a duty to our country to punish those vile deserters, not to mention the indulgence of a little private revenge. But how is it that you hope to succeed?”

“Why it appears that the fierce Khan, Khoros Khaloret, has taken umbrage that the Chief Arslan Gherrei refuses him his daughter—the same of whom we heard so much, and who so narrowly escaped us at the fords of the Mezi, when the Khan’s brother led you into that desperate scrape. He now wishes to run off with the lady, and take refuge with us: so I have made it a condition of his being; well received, that he brings off those deserters, Ivan Galetzoff, his page, Lieutenant Stanisloff, and others. I fear he may not succeed in capturing Ivan Galetzoff, who, now I hear, bears the name of Selem Gherrei; indeed, I have no doubt he is the son of Arslan Gherrei, as I captured the boy myself, and well remember that was the name of the chief whose village I attacked and burned. I carried off his wife with this boy, who I knew not was her own son, little thinking what a viper I was cherishing. I intended him to prove a bitter enemy to this rebellious country, but I find this woman counteracted all my intentions, by instilling into his bosom an absurd love of country and liberty. I would give worlds to get him into my power; and though the Khan may not succeed in entrapping him, he may secure his page, whom he brought with him from Russia, and to whom it seems he is much attached. I propose to work upon the boy, either by kindness or threats of his life, to induce him to assist in some plot to betray his master. At all events I have hopes that this young Gherrei, when he finds we have possession of his sister and page, will attempt to rescue them. We will be on the watch to ensure his capture, and I will promise a reward to whoever makes him a prisoner. What say you, Count, to my plans?”

“It is an excellent plot, and cannot fail,” said his worthy officer; “but we must also endeavour to re-capture Lieutenant Stanisloff. I have a little private grudge against him, which I would fain indulge.”

“Oh! there is but little chance of missing him,” answered his superior; “he will probably accompany Selem Gherrei into the field, and fall into the same toil as his friend. You, Colonel, shall have the lady as your share.”

“I cannot refuse so generous an offer,” said the Count. “I suppose she must be beautiful, or she would not have inflamed the heart of the savage Khan. I require some fair mistress to drive the Gipsy Azila out of my head; for I could never gain any further trace of her after it was discovered that she was implicated in that miserable conspiracy.”

“A great disappointment, Colonel; but I dare say this wild mountain beauty will recompense you for her loss,” said the Baron.

“Perchance she may,” answered the Count, “for it is said these Circassian beauties may vie with the most lovely in the world. But we must be cautious. If we deprive the fiery Khan of the lady, he may give us some trouble. He does not appear a person who would quietly submit to have his mistress taken from him, after the risk and danger he must undergo to win her.”

“That matters little,” answered the Baron; “he will give us but slight trouble, for we must put him out of the way on the first convenient opportunity. I never contemplated allowing him to remain alive. I love not these intractable mountaineers; and can never trust them. We can let him fall into the hands of his countrymen, and they will take good care to ease us of any further thought concerning him.”

“A very good idea, General,” answered the Count. “I agree with you that these barbarians are equally troublesome whether as friends or enemies; and I confess I did not like the scowl he cast on me and all around, as he passed, bearing himself as proudly as if he were some conqueror riding amidst his slaves.”

“They are a detested race,” exclaimed the General, grinning through his thick-mustachioed lips; “but we will soon humble their pride, and drag them in chains to St. Petersburg, where they shall be exhibited as a specimen of the knights of old and we may then build our château, and lay out our parks amidst these green hills and fertile valleys, without the fear of being molested.”

“You are facetious, General, at the expense of the savages,” said the Count. “But, according to my taste, this is rather too far from the capital to build a country house. I should like, however, to transfer a few of their fair beauties from these wilds to people my domain near Moscow; and as for the men who have given us so much trouble, I would shoot them all as traitors, or send them to work in the mines of Siberia. They are too fierce to be tamed; for, like hyaenas, they would never be at rest, and would spring upon us when we least expected it. But, badinage aside, what do you, Baron, intend to do with the prisoners the Khan is to bring us? They deserve severe punishment.”

“Shoot them as flagrant deserters taken in arms against the Emperor,” answered the Baron, clenching his hand, and frowning darkly. “It is too mild a punishment for them.”

“This page of Ivan Galetzoff, or Selem Gherrei, or whatever name he now goes by, deserves punishment richly for that affair of the Mezi,” said the Count. “I saw him fighting as furiously as the oldest hands among them. The fiery young villain shot the Khan’s brother and one of our own Cossacks, who was about to cut down his master. I fear we shall not succeed in getting much service out of him.”

“Then he must die. We must make an example of all deserters,” said the General, “or we shall find our ranks completely empty before long. What with the desertion of these rascally slaves we have sent there as soldiers, these cursed fevers which sweep off so many, and the atrocious daring of these barbarous mountaineers, we have lost more men already than we can spare. Had I my own way, I would overwhelm these Circassians at one fell swoop, and exterminate them from the face of the earth.”

“I agree with you, General, this is the only way to treat them,” answered the Count.