The Lady of the Shroud by Bram Stoker (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📖

I waved my hand so that he should know we saw him.

He was clad in green—his usual forest dress—so that there was not

any likelihood of any other eyes noticing him. I took off my hat,

and held it ready to signal with when the time should come. I

glanced down at the glade and saw the Voivodin standing, still safe,

with her guards so close to her as to touch. Then I, too, fixed my

eyes on the wood.

 

Suddenly the man standing beside me seized my arm and pointed. I

could just see through the trees, which were lower than elsewhere in

the front of the wood, a Turk moving stealthily; so I waved my hat.

At the same time a rifle underneath me cracked. A second or two

later the spy pitched forward on his face and lay still. At the same

instant my eyes sought the beech-tree, and I saw the closelying

figure raise itself and slide forward to a joint of the branch. Then

the Gospodar, as he rose, hurled himself forward amid the mass of the

trailing branches. He dropped like a stone, and my heart sank.

 

But an instant later he seemed in poise. He had clutched the thin,

trailing branches as he fell; and as he sank a number of leaves which

his motion had torn off floated out round him.

 

Again the rifle below me cracked, and then again, and again, and

again. The marauders had taken warning, and were coming out in mass.

But my own eyes were fixed on the tree. Almost as a thunderbolt

falls fell the giant body of the Gospodar, his size lost in the

immensity of his surroundings. He fell in a series of jerks, as he

kept clutching the trailing beech-branches whilst they lasted, and

then other lesser verdure growing out from the fissures in the rock

after the lengthening branches had with all their elasticity reached

their last point.

 

At length—for though this all took place in a very few seconds the

gravity of the crisis prolonged them immeasurably—there came a large

space of rock some three times his own length. He did not pause, but

swung himself to one side, so that he should fall close to the

Voivodin and her guards. These men did not seem to notice, for their

attention was fixed on the wood whence they expected their messenger

to signal. But they raised their yataghans in readiness. The shots

had alarmed them; and they meant to do the murder now—messenger or

no messenger

 

But though the men did not see the danger from above, the Voivodin

did. She raised her eyes quickly at the first sound, and even from

where we were, before we began to run towards the ravine path, I

could see the triumphant look in her glorious eyes when she

recognized the identity of the man who was seemingly coming straight

down from Heaven itself to help her—as, indeed, she, and we too, can

very well imagine that he did; for if ever heaven had a hand in a

rescue on earth, it was now.

 

Even during the last drop from the rocky foliage the Gospodar kept

his head. As he fell he pulled his handjar free, and almost as he

was falling its sweep took off the head of one of the assassins. As

he touched ground he stumbled for an instant, but it was towards his

enemies. Twice with lightning rapidity the handjar swept the air,

and at each sweep a head rolled on the sward.

 

The Voivodin held up her tied hands. Again the handjar flashed, this

time downwards, and the lady was free. Without an instant’s pause

the Gospodar tore off the gag, and with his left arm round her and

handjar in right hand, stood face toward his living foes. The

Voivodin stooped suddenly, and then, raising the yataghan which had

fallen from the hand of one of the dead marauders, stood armed beside

him.

 

The rifles were now cracking fast, as the marauders—those that were

left of them—came rushing out into the open. But well the marksmen

knew their work. Well they bore in mind the Gospodar’s command

regarding calmness. They kept picking off the foremost men only, so

that the onward rush never seemed to get more forward.

 

As we rushed down the ravine we could see clearly all before us. But

now, just as we were beginning to fear lest some mischance might

allow some of them to reach the glade, there was another cause of

surprise—of rejoicing.

 

From the face of the wood seemed to burst all at once a body of men,

all wearing the national cap, so we knew them as our own. They were

all armed with the handjar only, and they came like tigers. They

swept on the rushing Turks as though, for all their swiftness, they

were standing still—literally wiping them out as a child wipes a

lesson from its slate.

 

A few seconds later these were followed by a tall figure with long

hair and beard of black mingled with grey. Instinctively we all, as

did those in the valley, shouted with joy. For this was the Vladika

Milosh Plamenac himself.

 

I confess that, knowing what I knew, I was for a short space of time

anxious lest, in the terrific excitement in which we were all lapped,

someone might say or do something which might make for trouble later

on. The Gospodar’s splendid achievement, which was worthy of any

hero of old romance, had set us all on fire. He himself must have

been wrought to a high pitch of excitement to dare such an act; and

it is not at such a time that discretion must be expected from any

man. Most of all did I fear danger from the womanhood of the

Voivodin. Had I not assisted at her marriage, I might not have

understood then what it must have been to her to be saved from such a

doom at such a time by such a man, who was so much to her, and in

such a way. It would have been only natural if at such a moment of

gratitude and triumph she had proclaimed the secret which we of the

Council of the Nation and her father’s Commissioners had so

religiously kept. But none of us knew then either the Voivodin or

the Gospodar Rupert as we do now. It was well that they were as they

are, for the jealousy and suspicion of our mountaineers might, even

at such a moment, and even whilst they throbbed at such a deed, have

so manifested themselves as to have left a legacy of distrust. The

Vladika and I, who of all (save the two immediately concerned) alone

knew, looked at each other apprehensively. But at that instant the

Voivodin, with a swift glance at her husband, laid a finger on her

lip; and he, with quick understanding, gave assurance by a similar

sign. Then she sank before him on one knee, and, raising his hand to

her lips, kissed it, and spoke:

 

“Gospodar Rupert, I owe you all that a woman may owe, except to God.

You have given me life and honour! I cannot thank you adequately for

what you have done; my father will try to do so when he returns. But

I am right sure that the men of the Blue Mountains, who so value

honour, and freedom, and liberty, and bravery, will hold you in their

hearts for ever!”

 

This was so sweetly spoken, with lips that trembled and eyes that

swam in tears, so truly womanly and so in accord with the custom of

our nation regarding the reverence that women owe to men, that the

hearts of our mountaineers were touched to the quick. Their noble

simplicity found expression in tears. But if the gallant Gospodar

could have for a moment thought that so to weep was unmanly, his

error would have had instant correction. When the Voivodin had risen

to her feet, which she did with queenly dignity, the men around

closed in on the Gospodar like a wave of the sea, and in a second

held him above their heads, tossing on their lifted hands as if on

stormy breakers. It was as though the old Vikings of whom we have

heard, and whose blood flows in Rupert’s veins, were choosing a chief

in old fashion. I was myself glad that the men were so taken up with

the Gospodar that they did not see the glory of the moment in the

Voivodin’s starry eyes; for else they might have guessed the secret.

I knew from the Vladika’s look that he shared my own satisfaction,

even as he had shared my anxiety.

 

As the Gospodar Rupert was tossed high on the lifted hands of the

mountaineers, their shouts rose to such a sudden volume that around

us, as far as I could see, the frightened birds rose from the forest,

and their noisy alarm swelled the tumult.

 

The Gospodar, ever thoughtful for others, was the first to calm

himself.

 

“Come, brothers,” he said, “let us gain the hilltop, where we can

signal to the Castle. It is right that the whole nation should share

in the glad tidings that the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion is free.

But before we go, let us remove the arms and clothing of these

carrion marauders. We may have use for them later on.”

 

The mountaineers set him down, gently enough. And he, taking the

Voivodin by the hand, and calling the Vladika and myself close to

them, led the way up the ravine path which the marauders had

descended, and thence through the forest to the top of the hill that

dominated the valley. Here we could, from an opening amongst the

trees, catch a glimpse far off of the battlements of Vissarion.

Forthwith the Gospodar signalled; and on the moment a reply of their

awaiting was given. Then the Gospodar signalled the glad news. It

was received with manifest rejoicing. We could not hear any sound so

far away, but we could see the movement of lifted faces and waving

hands, and knew that it was well. But an instant after came a calm

so dread that we knew before the semaphore had begun to work that

there was bad news in store for us. When the news did come, a bitter

wailing arose amongst us; for the news that was signalled ran:

 

“The Voivode has been captured by the Turks on his return, and is

held by them at Ilsin.”

 

In an instant the temper of the mountaineers changed. It was as

though by a flash summer had changed to winter, as though the yellow

glory of the standing corn had been obliterated by the dreary waste

of snow. Nay, more: it was as when one beholds the track of the

whirlwind when the giants of the forest are levelled with the sward.

For a few seconds there was silence; and then, with an angry roar, as

when God speaks in the thunder, came the fierce determination of the

men of the Blue Mountains:

 

“To Ilsin! To Ilsin!” and a stampede in the direction of the south

began. For, Illustrious Lady, you, perhaps, who have been for so

short a time at Vissarion, may not know that at the extreme southern

point of the Land of the Blue Mountains lies the little port of

Ilsin, which long ago we wrested from the Turk.

 

The stampede was checked by the command, “Halt!” spoken in a

thunderous voice by the Gospodar. Instinctively all stopped. The

Gospodar Rupert spoke again:

 

“Had we not better know a little more before we start on our journey?

I shall get by semaphore what details are known. Do you all proceed