"Fear him not, fear him not, maiden," exclaimed the Hadji. "What harm can he do? His followers cannot compete with us. Till he washes out the stain of his brother's dishonour in the blood of our foes, he cannot again appear in the company of the chiefs of Abasia."

"I fear not for myself," answered Ina; "but I fear him for the evil he may work to my father and brother: I know that to meet him in open fight they would have nought to dread; but he is subtle as well as fierce, and may seek secret means to injure them."

"Do not let such thoughts alarm you for our father or for me, dear Ina,"

said her brother. "The Khan could not harm us, if he wished."

"Mashallah! if he were as cunning as the fox," exclaimed the Hadji, "we would rout him out of his den, should he attempt any revenge for that young traitor's just punishment."

The travellers were now approaching the residence of the venerable Prince Aitek Tcherei, the kinsman of Arslan Gherrei, with whom Ina was to remain during his and her brother's absence. The whole party, also, were invited to sojourn there that day, ere they proceeded to the camp of the allied princes and chiefs on the Ubin.

The party were descending a hill bounding another beautiful and romantic vale, on the side of which stood the residence of the aged chief, and had just arrived in sight of a grove of lofty trees surrounding the house, when being perceived from the watch-tower in the neighbourhood, a band of gaily caparisoned youths on horseback, galloped out to meet the chiefs, uttering loud shouts of welcome, and firing off their rifles and pistols as they came on at full speed. Halting at the moment they arrived abreast of the leaders of the party, they respectfully saluted them, exchanging greetings with their younger friends as they pa.s.sed, and then joined the rear of the cortege.

Along avenue of fine trees led up to the gate of the house, where the aged Prince, clothed in a long robe and turban, (the garb of peace), was standing to receive them, attended by his squire, armed more for state than protection, and by his dependants and household serfs, who hastened to take the horses of the chieftains, as they dismounted.

Folding Arslan Gherrei in his arms, "My n.o.ble kinsman," he said, "welcome are you to my home, for gladly do my old eyes once more look on you; and how did my heart beat with joy when I heard that you had recovered your long lost son. Allah is great, who has shielded him from so many perils in the land of the Giaour, to restore him once more to your bosom. Is yonder n.o.ble youth he? Worthy he seems to be a Circa.s.sian chief. Let me embrace him," he added, as Selem, dismounting from his horse, advanced towards the old man.

"Come hither, my son, and let your father's oldest friend embrace you.

Ah! I see in his eye and bearing that he is worthy of you, Uzden. And your other child? your daughter? Come hither, Ina; let my old eyes gaze on thee, too. My own Zara will rejoice to see you. Go to her, Ina; she longs to embrace you, but she fears to quit her anderoon before so many strangers. Ah! my gallant friend, Hadji Guz Beg! rejoiced am I to see the Lion of the Atteghei returned from his pilgrimage, to spread terror among the hearts of the Urus. And you, Achmet Beg, and you, Alp, who will one day be a hero like your father; and you, chieftains, welcome all."

Thus he addressed them, as each chief advanced to pay his respects to the old man. "My heart," exclaimed he, "has not beat so joyfully since the cursed Urus slew the last prop of my age, my only son. Chieftains, I have ordered a banquet to be prepared to do honour to your coming, and it will soon be the hour for feasting."

Saying which, the venerable n.o.ble led the way to a grove of lofty trees in the neighbourhood of the house, under which a fresh green arbour had been erected by his retainers, forming a grateful shade from the yet burning rays of the sun. Divans and carpets had been spread under the leafy bower, the front of which opened on a gentle slope, falling to, a green plot of turf, surrounded by groups of trees. Thither the chiefs were ushered, and when all were seated, according to their rank, their venerable host took his place among them.

Many of the neighbouring n.o.bles had a.s.sembled to do honour to the guests of their chief, their numerous attendants forming groups with the villagers and retainers of the host collected before the arbour. The Dehli Khans, or young men, amusing themselves in the mean time, in various athletic sports.

Troops of servants soon appeared hastening to the arbour, bearing tables laden with various dishes of richly dressed meats and fruits, which might well vie in taste with the sumptuous fare of less primitive countries. Bowls of mead and boza were handed round to the guests; for even those professing the Mahomedan faith did not hesitate to drink of the former delicious beverage, nor were spirits and wine wanting, to add to the conviviality of those whose scruples did not prevent their indulging in them.

Minstrels, also, came from far and near to add to the festivity of the occasion; for what feast would be complete without the masters of song?

The aged Ha.s.sein Shahin, the famed bard of the Atteghei, he who sang of a hundred fights, which he had himself witnessed, and in some of which he had been engaged, now turned his lyre to a high and martial strain.

All voices were silent, every ear intent to catch his words which were as follows:

From Liberty's harp are the strains you now hear; Men of Atteghei rise at the call; Hark! hark! to its sounds, for the foemen are near, It summons us warriors all To fight for the land of our ancestors' graves, Who died that their children might never be slaves.

The Russ marches onward with chains in his hand, To bind our free arms will he try.

His banner's dark eagle o'ershadows our land, But we've sworn or to conquer or die, For we fight o'er the sod of our ancestors' graves, Whose valiant hearts ne'er would have yielded to slaves.

'Tis Poland's enslaver with foul b.l.o.o.d.y hand, Remember her story of woe!

Her brave sons are captives, or fled their lov'd land, Beware, or her fate we may know!

Let us swear on the earth of our forefathers' graves, That we ne'er will be conquered or yield to those slaves.

Remember we fight for our mountains so green, For our vales, for our streams' sparkling tide, For those fields which our father's for ages have been, And where, ever unconquer'd, they died.

Then let not their bones be disturbed in their graves, By the tread of a Muscovite army of slaves.

See the glorious banner of freedom unfurl'd.

It waves o'er our lov'd native land.

Muster round it, and valiantly prove to the world, That _alone_ we are able to stand.

As our fathers who lie in their warrior graves, Fighting died, that their children might never be slaves.

Then curs'd be the traitors who yield to the foe, And curs'd be the cowards who fly!

May they ne'er while they live, peace or happiness know, And hated, and scorn'd, may they die!

In lands far away may they rot in their graves, And their children bear ever the foul mark of slaves!

Now sharpen our spears, well prove each tough bow, And the swords of our forefathers wield.

Don the armour so often they wore 'gainst the foe, Seize each rifle and glittering shield, And their shadows yet hovering over their graves, Will guard us from foes who would make us their slaves.

Then to arms, then to arms, and this harp shall proclaim The proud deeds that your valour has done; And the world shall resound with the praise of your name, To be handed from sire to son; And tell of the heroes who lie in their graves, Who died that the Atteghei ne'er should be slaves.

The warriors grasped their swords, their eyes kindled, their b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaved at the minstrel's tones, the effect was such as would be difficult to understand from the above meagre translation, without the accompaniment of the bard's rich and animated voice, and the high loud tones of his instrument.

Several other baras succeeded, taking various themes for their song.

When describing the heroic deeds of their warriors, their tones were lofty and inspiring. When singing of their untimely deaths, cut off by the foe, their voices would sink to a low and plaintive wail. When picturing the beauty of some maiden more lovely still than her companions, the air would be soft, sweet, and melting.

When the banquet was concluded, the gallant Hadji and his brother, Achmet Beg, rose to depart, for their home was at no great distance, and the Hadji's wife was anxiously expecting the return of her lord, though the old warrior dreamed not of giving himself a day's rest, but had engaged to be ready on the following morning, to accompany the other chiefs to the banks of the Ubin.

When search was made for young Alp, he was nowhere to be found, for he had early stolen from the feast.

"Your gallant son has been a constant visitor here, of late," said the venerable host to the Hadji. "The youth loves to listen to my tales of our wars with the Urus. He will follow closely in your steps, n.o.ble Hadji, and I love him much. I know not if it is so; but I sometimes think he casts an eye of affection towards my Zara; and if it please you, my friend, he may have her."

"It is no time for the youth to take to himself a wife, when his thoughts ought to be alone of war," answered the Hadji; "but Mashallah!

he would be happy to possess so sweet a partner."

The aged chieftain's suspicion was correct, for Alp was at last discovered, coming from the direction of the anderoon; and he set off with his father to their home.

The next morning a large band of warriors, amounting almost to a small army, a.s.sembled in the valley, prepared to set off for the camp on the Ubin. Headed by the aged chief, they repaired to a sacred grove in the neighbourhood, in which stood an ancient stone cross, a relic of the former religion of the country, round which the chieftains and their followers knelt, while supplications were addressed to the One all-powerful being, to aid their arms in driving the Urus from their country. Each warrior bore a chaplet in his hand, which he hung up as a votive offering to the Divinity--a heathen custom handed down from the remotest times.

This ceremony being performed, the chiefs mounted their war-steeds, and commenced their journey; the aged chief raising his hands towards Heaven, bestowing blessings on them as they pa.s.sed.

Selem had much difficulty in compelling young Conrin to remain behind; but at last he succeeded in drawing a reluctant promise from the boy that he would not quit the valley without permission, but would remain as the page of Ina, and obey her behests. He did not attempt to persuade Thaddeus to accompany him, and the young Pole had found attractions, stronger even than those of friendship, to detain him in the valley. It would also have been against the usual custom to allow one, who had so lately quitted the enemy, to appear in arms on the side of the patriots; a degree of suspicion existing among the chiefs against all strangers, until their fidelity to the cause had been proved. He therefore remained, with Karl as his attendant--a life the honest serf seemed wonderfully to enjoy.

Volume 3, Chapter II.

Deep was the grief of Ina when she saw her beloved father and brother depart for the scene of conflict, nor could her heart refrain from sad forebodings when she thought of the dangers to which they must be exposed. Too often had she been witness to the misery and heart-rending wailing of her countrywomen, when anxiously expecting a father, a husband, or a brother, as they met in lieu the mangled remains of the loved one brought home on a b.l.o.o.d.y bier by his comrades. Such grief she herself had never known; but she felt too clearly that horrors like those might be in store, too, for her; nor could the fierce blast of war, which raged round the land, steel her heart.

Zara did all in her power to tranquillise and cheer her friend under her affliction; but too well could she also enter into and share her fears, for she had seen her gallant father brought home stiff and cold on his shield, slaughtered by the foe in repelling an inroad into his country.

That father was the last prop of her grandsire's declining years; and hopelessly for him had the old man mourned, for he had now no warrior descendant to succeed to his name and possessions, and none to guard his child from danger. At his death the disposal of Zara in marriage would devolve on the eldest of his tribe, and they would not inquire if her heart could be given with her person. Her destiny, therefore, might be a cruel one. A new chief would be chosen to lead the clan to battle, and, in peace, to preside at their councils, and poor Zara might be neglected.

Such was the fair girl's account of herself; and thus the two friends, by pouring their griefs into each other's bosom, found mutual consolation. She confessed, indeed, that there was one whom she hoped might win her, and whom she thought loved her; but he had no wealth, and as yet had little renown in arms. Yet she whispered to her friend's ear, that she fondly loved the gallant young Alp, though she had enjoyed but few opportunities of meeting him.

The aged Prince, Aitek Tcherei, having warmly embraced the tenets of Mahomet, the two maidens were more strictly secluded than Ina had been accustomed to; the old Ana, or nurse, who presided over the domestic arrangements of the anderoon, keeping a constant and vigilant watch upon them. Though the custom of the country would not allow of their being limited to the same strict seclusion as in a Turkish harem, the nurse was, nevertheless, horrified at the idea of Ina's appealing in public without her face being entirely shrouded by a thick veil, nor did she at all approve of her propensity to ramble through the groves, or amid the shadowy cliffs.

The old Kahija's ideas of female happiness did not extend beyond the acquisition of a new veil or robe, or, more than all, the enjoyment of a gossip. What pleasure could the girls find in scrambling over the dirty mountains and damp gra.s.s? or why should they dance or sing, except to please their lords and masters, when other persons are paid to dance and sing to them?

Her parents had sold her, when young and promising great beauty, to a Turkish slave-merchant; and it was with unalloyed pleasure, in antic.i.p.ation of the novelty and magnificence of the great Stamboul, that she leaped on board the vessel which was to convey her from her friends and country. At first she herself felt the irksomeness of constraint; but soon became reconciled to her self-chosen lot, and learned to approve of all the regulations of the harem to which she was consigned.

Her notions, therefore, on her return, at the death of her master, to her own country, were much scandalised at the freedom and what she considered the levity of her young countrywomen; and she loved to expatiate on the superior manners and customs of the fair captives in the seclusions of Stamboul. Like other dames, who find that their charms can no longer captivate, her temper at times became rather cross and crabbed, though she always tried to treat her young motherless charge with kindness.

Such was the old Ana, Kahija, who, wrapped in her feridji, now entered the anderoon to interrupt with her gossip the conversation of the two maidens. She delighted in gossiping--what old nurse does not?

particularly a Turkish one. She now came out of breath, with her exertion of walking from a neighbouring cottage, to say with great eagerness, that the chief shepherd had just come in from the distant mountains, where he had seen the dark mountain khan, Khoros Kaloret, whose brother had turned traitor, and been killed by the young chief Selem, galloping by with a long train of savage followers, who were riding furiously in the direction of the Ubin.

"Oh, Allah, grant that he meet not my father or Selem there!" exclaimed Ina, in accents of terror.