The Lion of Janina; Or The Last Days of the Janissaries: A Turkish Novel Read online

  The Lion of Janina

  CHAPTER I

  THE CAVERNS OF SELEUCIA

  A savage, barren, inhospitable region lies before us, the cavernousvalley of Seleucia--a veritable home for an anchorite, for there isnothing therein to remind one of the living world; the whole districtresembles a vast ruined tomb, with its base overgrown by green weeds.Here is everything which begets gloom--the blackest religiousfanaticism, the darkest monstrosities of superstition--while aneternal malediction seems to brood like a heavy mist over this region,created surely by God's left hand, scattering abroad gigantic rockyfragments, smiting the earth with unfruitfulness, and making ituninhabitable by the children of men.

  Man rarely visits these parts. And, indeed, why should he come, orwhat should he seek there? There is absolutely nothing in the wholeregion that is dear to the heart of man. Even the wild beast makes noabiding lair for himself in that valley. Only now and then, in theburning days of summer, a lion of the wilderness, flying from beforethe sultry heat, may, perchance, come there to devour his capturedprey, and then, when he is well gorged, pursue his way, wrangling ashe goes with the echo of his own roar.

  Solitary travellers of an enterprising turn of mind do occasionallyvisit this dreary wilderness; but so crushing an impression does itmake on all who have the courage to gaze upon it, that they scarcewait to explore the historic ground, but hasten from it as fast astheir legs can carry them.

  What is there to see there, after all? A battered-down wall, as towhich none can say who built it, or why it was built, or who destroyedit. A tall stone column, the column of the worthy Simon Stylites, whopiled it up, stone upon stone, year after year, with his own hands,being wont to sit there for days together with arms extended in theshape of a cross, bowing himself thousands and thousands of times aday till his head touched his feet. The northern and southern sides ofthe valley are cut off from the rest of the world by gigantic massesof rocks as steep and solid as the bastions of a fortress; onlytowards their summit, at an elevation of some three to four hundredyards, is a little strip of green vegetation visible.

  Darkly visible at intervals in this long and steep rocky wall are themouths of a series of caverns, of various sizes, all close together.It looks as if some monstrous antediluvian race had cut two or threestories of doors and windows into the living rock, in order to makethemselves palaces to dwell in.

  The walls of these caverns are so rugged, their bases are soirregular, that it is scarcely conceivable that they could be thework of human hands, unless, indeed, the arched concavities of thechasms and the regular consecutiveness of the series may be assumed tobear witness to the wonder-working power of finite forces.

  Three of the entrances to these caverns have all the loftiness oftriumphal arches; nay, one of them, carved in the base of the rock, isso exceptionally vast that it rather resembles the nave of a hugechurch, and is said to penetrate the whole mountain to the sea beyond.It is said that if any one has the courage to attempt the journey, hewill discover mysterious hieroglyphics carved on the walls. Who couldhave been the authors of this unknown runic language? The Chaldeansperhaps, or the worshippers of Mithra. What hidden secrets, what humanmemorials are enshrined in these symbols? That question must remainforever without an answer.

  Most probably this valley was used as a burial-place by somelong-vanished nation, whose tombs have survived them, making the wholeregion still more dreadful; the gaping crevices of the rocks seem toproclaim, as from a hundred open throats, that here an extinct racehas found its last resting-place.

  Moreover, the largest cavern of all has the unusual property ofsometimes emitting whistling sounds like interrupted human voices. Theshepherds on the mountain summits listen terror-stricken to thisbellowing of its rocky throat. At first it resembles the buzzing ofimprisoned wasps, but the din gradually gathers force and volume tillit seems as if the demons of the wind had lost their way within thecavern, and were roaring tumultuously in their endeavors to find anexit. This noise is generally followed by the blast of the simoon,which no doubt penetrates into the cavern through a gap on the otherside, and thus gives rise to the mysterious voices of the valley.

  But not on these occasions only; at other seasons also the cavern iswont to speak. It happens now and then that a shepherd, more foolhardythan his fellows, ventures into the hollow of the cavern to light afire, and, full of bravado, provokes the _dzhin_ of the cavern toappear, till the cavern suddenly re-echoes his voice; but it does notre-echo the words he utters, but replies in a soft, low accent to theinsolent youth, bidding him withdraw and cease to mock God'screatures.

  On another occasion an adulterous woman and her paramour strolledtowards the spot with the intent of using the deep darkness as thecloak for their sinful joys; but what terror filled the guilty loverswhen their sweet whispering was interrupted by a voice which wasneither near nor far, and belonged neither to man nor spirit, butwhose cold sigh turned their hot blood into ice as it whispered,"Allah is everywhere present!"

  Once, too, some robbers were lying in wait for their comrades, whomthey intended to murder in that place, when a roaring began in thecave which seemed to make the very welkin ring, and the murderersclearly distinguished the terrible words: "The eye of Allah is uponyou, and the flames of Morhut are burning for your souls!" whereupon,insane with fright, they rushed from the cave.

  Every one who lived near the place knew of, and believed in, the_dzhin_ of the cavern, who, they said, harmed not the good, butpersecuted evil-doers.

  But it was not only terror-stricken hearts who knew of the voice ofthe invisible _dzhin_--crushed and bleeding hearts likewise repairedthither. And the invisible _dzhin_ read their secrets; they had noneed to acquaint him with their griefs, and he gave them good counsel,and, for the most part, sent them away comforted. Doubtless anybodyelse might have given them similar counsels; but if the advice hadcome from ordinary men, the suppliants would not perhaps have welcomedit with such enthusiasm, or have turned it to such good account.

  And people often came thither to inquire into the future; and theinvisible being, it was found, could distinguish between those whocame to him in real anguish of mind and those whom only curiosity hadattracted thither, or who merely wished to prove him. To the latter hemade no answer, but to the former he often spoke in propheticparables, whose deeply figurative meaning was frequently fulfilledword for word.

  The superstitious common folk made a merit of sacrificing to thisunknown being. The dwellers round about made a point of living on goodterms with him, took care not to provoke him with vain words, did notfly to him at every trifle; nay, on one occasion, the Kadi[1] ofSeleucia even laid by the heels a couple of wanton rascals who werecaught throwing stones into the cavern.

  [Footnote 1: For this and all other Turkish words see the glossary atthe end of this book.]

  From the mouth of the cave inward extended a sort of staircaseconsisting of about forty steps, terminating at a point whither thelight of day scarcely ever reached. Here stood a huge stone, notunlike a rude altar, in the midst of which was a slight hollow. Thishollow the pious inhabitants of the district used to fill with rice ormillet, and on returning next day they would see that the _dzhin_ hadremoved it from thence, and, by way of payment, had left a smallsilver coin in this natural basin--a coin belonging to that old silvermoney which had been struck in the brilliant days of the TurkishEmpire, and was worth thrice as much as the present coinage. Thus the_dzhin_ would take nothing gratis, but paid for everything in readymoney.

  Those who wished to speak with him had to penetrate into the depths ofthe cave where no daylight was visible, for he was only to be foundwhere the darkness was complete. If any one went with sword or daggerhe got no answer at all. And a visitor standing alone there in thedarkness was as plainly visible to the _dzhin_ as if the glare ofnoonday were beating full upon him; not a change of countenance washidden from this mysterious being. So they more readily believed thathe who could thus see through the darkness of earth could also seethr
ough the darkness of human hearts and the darkness of theunrevealed future.

  This marvel had now been notorious for fifty years, the ordinary spanof human life, and princes, pashas, generals, wise men, priests,ulemas, were in the habit of visiting the abode of the _dzhin_, whoseemed to know about everything that was going on in the world above.To many he prophesied death, and to those who pleased him not heforetold the Nemesis that was to come upon them as a reward for theiriniquities.

  * * * * *

  In the year one thousand eight hundred and nineteen, at the seasonimmediately following the raging of the simoon, it chanced that apirate ship sailed into the haven of Suda, whence the magnificentruins of the ancient Seleucia are still to be seen. The corsaircarried the French flag, but her crew consisted entirely of Albanians.The deck was encumbered with wreckage, cast down upon it by thehappily weathered tempest, and this the crew were energeticallyengaged in removing; but every one on shore was astounded to see herthere at all, much more in such trim condition, for she had lostneither mast nor sail. But then, after the manner of corsairs ingeneral, she was very much better equipped with both masts and sailsthan ships of ordinary tonnage are wont to be. In the same hour thatthe ship cast anchor the largest of her boats was lowered, and mannedby four and twenty well-armed Trinariots. Every one of these stoutfellows carried orders of merit on his cheek, the scars of many abattle, which accentuated the savage sternness of their weather-beatenfaces.

  A little old man descended after them into the boat; presently hishorse was also let down by means of a crane. This was the officer incommand. He was a middling-sized but very muscular old fellow, alreadybeyond his seventieth and not very far from his eightieth year; but hewas as vigorous now both in mind and body as he had been when hisbeard, which now swept across his breast like the wing of a swan, wasas dark as the raven's plume.

  His broad shoulders spoke of extraordinary strength, while the firmexpression of his face, the flashing lustre of his eyes, and his calmand valiant look, testified to the fact that this strength wassquandered upon no coward soul.

  Some stout rowing brought the boat at last near to the shore, but notall the efforts of the men could bring her to land; the wash of thesea was so great that the foam-crested waves again and again drove theboat back from the shore.

  At a sign from the old man three of the ship's crew leaped into thewaves in order to drag after them the boat's hawser, but the sea toreit out of the hands of all three as easily as a wild bull would toss apack of children.

  Then the old man vaulted upon his steed, kicking the stirrups aside,and leaped among the churning waves. Twice the horse was jostled backby the assault of the foaming billows, but at the third attempt theshore was reached. The people on the shore said it was a miracle; buthe, wasting no words upon any one, directed his way all alone alongthe shore of the haven, and leaving behind him the lofty turreted rowof bastions--which crowns the edge of the rocky promontory, encirclesthe town, and hangs upon the shoulders of the hill like an ancient andgigantic necklace--picked his way among the lofty, scattered bowlders,and, unescorted as he was, quickly disappeared from view amid thewilderness.

  He had scarcely proceeded more than half an hour among the fig andolive trees which covered the slopes of the hills, and whose scorchedand withered leaves marked the passage of the burning wind, when hearrived at the place he sought. It was a crazy, tumble-down hut, whoseshapeless mass was so clumsily compounded of wood, stone, and mud,that a swallow would have been ashamed to own it, let alone a beaver,whose ordinary habitation is an architectural masterpiece comparedwith it. Nature, however, had been gracious to this shanty, andclothed it with creeping plants, which nearly hid away all thesuperfluous cracks and crevices which the architect had left behindhim.

  It was here that the new-comer dismounted from his horse, tied it to atree, and, proceeding to the latchless door, amused himself by readingthe scrawl which had been written on the outside of it, and was, asusual, one of those sacred texts which the Turks love to see overtheir door-posts: "Accursed be he who disturbs a singing-bird!"

  The stranger fell a listening. Surely there was no singing-bird here,he thought. Then he went on reading what followed: "He who knocks atthe gate of him who prays will knock in vain at the gate of Paradise."

  The stranger did not take the trouble to knock; he simply kicked thedoor down.

  Within was kneeling an anchorite of the order of Erdbuhar on a pieceof matting. He was naked to the girdle, and before him stood a woodentub full of fresh water. He was just finishing his ablutions.

  He did not seem to observe the violent inroad of the stranger, butconcluded his religious exercises with great fervor. First of all hewashed his hands, reciting thirty times the sacred words, "Blessed beGod, Who hath given to water its purifying power, and hath revealedthe true faith to us!" Next he thrice conveyed water to his mouth inhis right palm, and prayed, "O Lord! O Allah! refresh me with thewater Thou didst give to Thy Prophet Muhammad in Paradise, which ismore fragrant than balm, whiter than milk, and sweeter than honey, andsatisfies eternally those who pine with thirst!" Then, with the palmof his hand, he cast water upon his nostrils, and exclaimed,fervently, "O Lord! cause me to smell the perfume of Paradise, whichis sweeter than musk and ambergris, and suffer me not to inhale theaccursed fumes of hell!" Then, filling both palms with water and wellwashing his face, he said these words, "Purify my face, O Lord, likeas Thou wilt purify the faces of Thy prophets and servants on thegreat Day of Judgment!" But even this did not suffice, for now he putwater in his right palm again, and, letting it run down his elbows, hesighed, "Lord, suffer me at the last day to hold in my right hand,which is the hand of Thine elect, the book of my good deeds, and admitme to Thy Paradise!" With that he dipped his head into the tub ofwater, but so as to keep his mouth clear of it, and spake in thiswise, "O Lord, when I appear before Thee, encompass me with Thymercies, and crush not my head beneath the fiery wreath of my sins,but adorn it with the golden crown of my merits!" Then came the turnof his ears, the worthy man crying the while, with unction, "Grant, OLord, that mine ears may hear, for ever and ever, those joyous soundswhich are written in the Kuran!" This accomplished, he sprinkled hisneck and throat, suitably exclaiming, "O Lord, deliver me from thosefetters which will be cast upon the necks of the accursed!" Afterwhich pious ejaculation he sat down on the ground, and, reverentlywashing his right foot, exclaimed, "O Lord, suffer not my feet to slipon the bridge of Alserat which leads across hell to heaven!" Then hecleansed thoroughly his left foot also, and sighed, "May the Lordforgive me my trespasses and listen to my supplications!"

  And the honest dervish did not utter all these pious ejaculations in alow mumble, but in an intelligible, exalted voice, as becomes anorthodox Mussulman, who does not consider it a shameful thing to prayto God in the presence of men.

  After that he took up the tub and, carrying it out, sprinkled thewater it contained over the wild flowers growing there, blessing themseverally and collectively; then he filled it full again with freshwater from the spring, and bringing it back into the hut and turningthe mat over, placed the tub full of water on it, whereupon thestranger immediately divested himself of his slippers and upperkaftan, unwound his turban, removed his red fez from his head, andproceeded to perform his ablutions also in the self-same manner.

  When he had finished he kissed the hand of the dervish, and when thelatter drew from his girdle a long manuscript reaching to the veryground, and began, from its eighty sections, to laud and magnify theeighty properties of Allah, the stranger repeated them after him withgreat unction, and, at the end of each one of them, intoned with himtwice over the verse, "La illah, il Allah, Muhammad roszul Allah!"--inthe chanting of which he was as practised as any muezzin.

  All these pious practices were accomplished with the utmost devotion;but when the new-comer arose from his place, the expression oflowliness vanished from his features and he reassumed his formercommanding look, while the dervish now humbly bowed down
before him tothe very earth and murmured:

  "What are my lord's commands to his servant?"

  The stranger let him lie there and slowly raised his sword.

  "Art thou," cried he, "that dervish of Erdbuhar[2] to whom Idespatched a fakir of the Nimetullahitas, who dwelleth in Janina?"

  [Footnote 2: The orders of Erdbuhar and Nimetullahita are the severestof all the Turkish religious fraternities: the former fast sorigorously twice a week that they do not even swallow their saliva;the latter observe the fast only during their year of probation, afterwhich they are free to return to the joys of this world.]

  "Thy servant is that man."

  The stranger thereupon, with his right hand, drew a dagger from hisgirdle, and with his left hand a purse.

  "Dost thou see this dagger and this purse?" said he. "In the purse area thousand sequins; on the blade of this sword is the blood of atleast as many murdered men. I ask thee not--Dost thou recognize me? ordost thou know my name? Maybe thou dost know--for thou knowest allthings--and, if so, thou dost also know that none hath ever betrayedme on whom I have not wreaked my vengeance. If, therefore, thou dostwant a reward, listen; but if chastisement, speak!"

  The dervish raised his hand to his ear to signify that he would preferto listen.

  "Arise, then! take my horse's bridle, and lead me to that cavern wheredwelleth the _dzhin_ of prophecy. Dost thou know him?"

  "I know him, my master, but go to him I will not, for he is wroth withme. He loves not the dervishes, because they would always be teaching.If I go to him he throws stones at me from out of the cavern, or leadsme into deep pitfalls. Therefore, if thou so desire it, I will leadthee thither; but I would not go with thee if I had as many heads uponmy shoulders for thy sword to sever as there are sequins in thatpurse."

  "There is no need of that. Thou canst remain outside and hold myhorse."

  And with that the herculean old man flung himself haughtily on hishorse, and the dervish, seizing the steed's bridle, began to lead himalong the mountain path among the rugged rocks and bowlders.

  The moon was already high in the heavens when they reached the mouthof the cavern.

  Looking back upon the country whence they came, the region seemed moredesolate than ever. In front, the savage, natural ruins; behind, theblack cedar forests, where thick foliage cast night-black shadows evenat noonday; on each side, the endlessly sublime masses of rocks, whichstood out still vaster in the moonlight. The caverns looked stillblacker at night, and the rock and ruins more sterile; but, night andday alike, the place was deserted.

  On reaching the cavern of the _dzhin_, the old man dismounted from hishorse and, bidding the dervish stand and hold it till he returned,disappeared in the cavern without the slightest hesitation.

  He could only grope his way, step by step, through the blindingdarkness; cautiously he advanced, but without fear. He tested theground in front of him as he advanced, with one hand over his eyes andthe other on the hilt of his sword. It must, indeed, be a resolutelywicked spirit that would venture to attack him.

  Every now and then a bat sped rapidly past him, close to his ears,with a sound like a mocking titter; at other times he trod upon somecold, moving body. But what cared he for these? The deep silence whichencircled him was far more terrible than all the voices of hell; andnot even the darkness terrified him, for his powerful voice nowpierced that subterranean stillness as with a sword.

  "I summon thee, thou spirit, whether thou art good or evil, whom Allahpermits to hold discourse with living men--I summon thee to speak withme!"

  "I am even now beside thee," a voice suddenly whispered. It was lowand hollow, just as if the atmosphere of the cavern were speaking.

  The stranger made a clutch after the voice, as if his audacious handwould have seized the spirit; but he found nothing. It was a voicewithout a shape.

  "Speak to me!" cried the old man, in a voice that never quavered."Dost thou know my fate?"

  "I know it," answered the invisible voice; "thou art a poor man whohast lost what thou hadst, and what thou now hast is not thine."

  "Thou art a senseless spirit," growled the stranger. "Go back to thytomb and slumber; I will inquire nothing more of thee. Thou dost noteven know my present fate; how canst thou know my future? Go back tothy hole, I say, and sleep in peace."

  "I know thee," continued the voice, "and I have spoken the truth. Donot they call thee Ali Tepelenti?"

  The stranger was amazed. "That is indeed my name," he answered.

  "Wert thou not a fugitive yesterday, and wilt thou not be dust andashes to-morrow?"

  "True; but that yesterday was eighty years ago; and who shall say whento-morrow will be?"

  "Thou knowest that here there is neither morning nor evening,"answered the voice. "To me yesterday was when I last saw the sun, andto-morrow will be when I see it again. Ali Tepelenti, Lord of Janina,thou art poorer than the lowliest Mussulman who girds himself with agirdle of hair, for thou hast lost everything which thou didst accountprecious. Thy kinsmen, who were for thy defence, thou hast slain; thymother, who loved thee, thou hast strangled; thy right hand has pulleddown the house which thou didst build up; thy glory, in which thoudidst exalt thyself, has become a curse to thee; and thou hast madebitter haters of those who loved thee best."

  "So it is. I know what I have done. I repent me of nothing. The harenibbles the flower, the vulture seizes the hare, the hunter slays thevulture, the lion fells the hunter, the worm devours the lion. All ofus turn to earth. Allah is mighty, and He orders it so. What am I?Only a bigger worm than the rest. Who shall strive with God? What ismy fate in the future?"

  "But yesterday thou wert younger than thy newborn son, to-morrow thoushalt die older than thy oldest ancestors."

  "Speak more plainly. I perceive the meaning of thy words as little asI perceive thyself."

  "'He who sins with the sword shall perish with the sword,' saithAllah. He who sins with love, shall perish by love. Thou hast twohands, the right and the left; thou hast two swords, one covered withgold and one with silver; thou hast three hundred wives in thy harem,but only one in thy heart; thou hast twelve sons, but only one whomthou lovest. Look, now! Take good heed of thy life, for thy deathlieth in what is nearest to thee; thine own weapon, thine own child,thine own property, thine own two hands, shall one day slay thee."

  "Mashallah! Death is inevitable. Tell me but one thing. Shall I oneday pass in triumph through the gates of the seraglio at Stambul?"

  "Thou shalt. Thou shalt stand there on a silver pedestal in the faceof the rejoicing multitude."

  "When?"

  "That day will come when thou shalt be in two places at the same time,in Janina and in Stambul; the days to come will explain it."

  "One word more. Wherefore didst thou mention that woman whom I lovebest?"

  "She will be the first to betray thee."

  "Accursed one!" roared Ali, drawing his sword and madly striking inthe direction of the voice.

  The sword hissed fiercely through the vacant air, and the next momentthe voice replied from a respectable distance:

  "It has happened already."

  "This is a dream, all a dream!" moaned Ali.

  "'Tis no dream; thou art wide awake," cried the mysterious voice.

  "If it be no dream, give me a sign that I may know before I departhence that I have not been dreaming."

  "First put thy sword into its sheath."

  "I have done so," said Ali; but he lied, for he had only slipped itinto his girdle.

  "Into the sheath, I say," cried the voice.

  It was with a tremor that Ali felt that this being could distinguishhis slightest movement in the dark.

  "And now stretch forth thy hand!" cried the voice. It was now quiteclose to him.

  Ali stretched forth his hand, and the same instant he felt a vigorous,manly hand seize his own in a grasp of steel; so strong, so cruel wasthe pressure that the blood started from the tips of his fingers.

  At last the invisible being let
go, and said in a whisper as it didso:

  "Not a muscle of thy face moved under the pressure of my hand; onlyTepelenti could so have endured."

  "And there is but one man living who could press my hand like that,"replied Ali. "His name was Behram, the son of Halil Patrona,[3] who,forty years ago, was my companion in warfare, and has sincedisappeared. Who art thou?"

  [Footnote 3: The extraordinary adventures of this Mussulman reformerare recorded in another of Jokai's Turkish stories, _A feher rozsa_(_The White Rose_).]

  "Aleikum unallah!"[4] said the voice, instead of replying.

  [Footnote 4: "God be with thee!"]

  "Who art thou?" again cried Ali, advancing a step.

  "Aleikum unallah!" was the parting salutation of the alreadyfar-distant voice.

  The mighty pasha turned back in a reverie, and when he got back intothe moonlight, he still saw plainly on his hand the drops of bloodwhich that powerful grasp had caused to leap forth from the tips ofhis fingers.