The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence

Still there was silence, and Germanos, still proud and full of hate, sat there without speech.

"So it is even as I told you," said Nicholas; "and these are malicious and lying words he has spoken against me. I am a man easily provoked, and, to my shame I speak it, one to whom forgiveness is a hard matter; but that, or so I think it, is a thing for which I ask pardon, not of man, but of God. Here, in this assembly, I have been accused of the blackest offences; but the accusation was blacker still, for it was the fruit of malice and falsehood. This is no matter for words of regret from one or of pardon from the other, for there is in my heart no pardon, and in his, I am very sure, no regret. Yet can I rid myself of the need of either? My heart is sick of intrigue and dissension, accusation and slander answering accusation, and I will have no more of them. As I stand in the presence of God I have only one thought, and that is the freedom of my country, and I do not serve it by spending my time throwing words at men whose salt I would not eat. It is not so very long since another said his voice would be heard no more here, yet since then it has not been silent. To-day those words are mine; but, before I go, one word. For the love of God, if any who sit here suspect me of treachery, treason, or any of those things of which I have been accused, as he hopes to be forgiven at the last day, let him stand out and say so."

Once again there was a dead silence, and Nicholas's face brightened, for the silence was sweet to him.

"So be it," he said, at length. "I go hence untouched by slander."

Then unbuckling his sword, he laid it on the table in front of the prince.

"My seat in the senate, sir, I resign," he said; "my commission as an officer I resign also. By birth I am a Mainat, and with your highness's permission I wish to be enrolled among the private soldiers of the corps."

Then turning to Petrobey:

"Old friend," he said, "once more we are together in the clan."

And with a step as light as a boy's, and a heart springing upward like a lark, rid at last of the burden of personal ambition, he left the room and went straight to where the corps were quartered.

Nicholas found Mitsos and Yanni sitting on the wall of the camp near the Mainat quarters, lecturing a small audience on the use and abuse of fire-ships, for another attempt had been made on a vessel of the cruising Turkish squadron, with the result of first half-roasting its navigator and then completely drowning him; but the men seeing an officer approach got up and saluted.

Nicholas, still with a singing heart, told them to be seated, and, lighting a pipe, drew in the smoke in long, contented breaths.

"This is the first tobacco I have enjoyed since we came here," he said, "for tobacco is tasted by the heart. Never again, lads, need you jump up when I come, for I am no longer an officer, but just a private like yourselves."

Mitsos stared aghast.

"Uncle Nicholas, what do you mean?" he gasped, wrinkling his eyebrows. "Is this Germanos's doing?"

"Not so, little Mitsos, for neither Germanos nor another could do that, but only myself. I have resigned my place in the senate, I have resigned my commission, and all that is left of me is plain Nicholas; but a man as happy as a king, instead of a bundle of malice and a bag of bad words which squirted out like new must. Eh, but I am happy, and it is God's own morning."

And he puffed out a great cloud of smoke and laughed out a great mouthful of laughter.

"But what has happened?" cried Mitsos, still feeling that the world was upsidedown.

"This has happened, little one," said Nicholas; "that a foul-tempered man has made up his mind to be foul tempered no more, and as the thing was an impossibility when he had to sit cocked up on a chair opposite the proud primates, why he has been sensible enough to refuse to sit there any longer. And as he was tired of tripping up on his fine tin sword, he has given it back to the fine tin prince. And may that man never do anything which he regrets less. Ah! here come my superior officers. There will be talking to do, but little of it will I lay my tongue to."

And he sprang up and saluted Petrobey.

Petrobey came up, quickly followed by two or three of the other officers, among whom was the prince, smiling at Nicholas through his annoyance, as the man stood at attention comely and erect.

"Drop that nonsense, dear cousin," he said, "and come to my tent for a talk. Look, we have all come to fetch you."

Nicholas looked at him radiantly.

"I have had a set of good minutes since I left you," he said. "Say your say, cousin, but little talking will I do."

The prince came forward with a fine, courteous air.

"We have come," he said, "to beg you to reconsider this step. I fancy you will find no more insults awaiting you in the senate."

"Your highness," he said, "I can look back on my life and say I have done one wise thing in it, and that this morning. And if, as you say, there are no insults awaiting me in the senate, that confirms my belief in its wisdom."

"But this is absurd, Nicholas," remonstrated Petrobey, "and all the primates, even Germanos himself, regret what you have done."

Nicholas laughed.

"That is a sweet word to me," he said, "and you know it. But I am no child to be coaxed with sugar."

"But think of us – we want your help. You have more weight with the men than any of us!"

"I shall not fail you," said Nicholas, "and if I do my duty in the ranks as well as I hope, I think I shall be more useful there than anywhere else."

"But your career, now on the point of being crowned," said Petrobey, eagerly. "The prince has promised – "

But Nicholas waved his hand impatiently.

"I have just got rid of my career," he said, "and I feel like a tired horse when a stout rider dismounts and loosens the girth. Do not attempt to saddle me again. Ah, dear cousin," he went on, suddenly with affection and more gravity, "even you know me not at all if you speak like that. Believe me, I care only for one thing in this world, and that is the object for which we have labored together so long. That cause I serve best here, and for these months I have been puffing myself up to think that fine, angry words were of no avail. But I will try them no longer; I am sick of anger, and my belly moves, whether I will or not, when I sit there and have to listen – you know to what. Leave me in peace. It is better so."

He glanced across at Mitsos a moment, who was standing by.

"I wish to speak to you alone, cousin," he said to Petrobey, "but that will wait. Meantime, I thank you for all your friendliness to me, and I decline entirely to listen to you. The thing is finished."

Petrobey saw that, for the present at least, it was no manner of use trying to persuade him, and left him for a time; and Nicholas, remarking that it was time for rations, and that these officers were horribly unpunctual, took Mitsos by the arm and led him off to the canteen, telling him on the way what had happened.

Mitsos was furiously indignant with Germanos, and vowed that the camp should ring with the hissing of his name, but Nicholas stopped him.

"I neither forgive nor forget," he said, "but it is mere waste of time and temper to curse. The harm is done, leave the vermin alone; oh, they have bitten me sorely, I don't deny that, but if we are going scavenging, as I pray God we may, let us begin in our own house. There are purging and washing to be done among the men, I fear, little Mitsos. And from this day, if there is any traffic or dishonorable barter among the corps of the clan, have me out and shoot me, for I make it my business that there shall be none. Now we will go and get our rations. I ordered supplies of fresh beef for the men yesterday; that was a good act to finish up with, and see already I reap the fruits of it."

Nicholas remained perfectly firm, and Petrobey eventually desisted from his attempt to persuade him to take up his commission again, for he might as well have tried to lever the sun out of its orbit. But he still continued to ask Nicholas's advice about the affairs of the army, which the latter could not very well withhold. Among the men, and especially among the Mainats, he underwent a sort of upsidedown apotheosis. Germanos had made villanous accusations; here was a fine answer. As for that proud man himself, he found his position was no longer tenable. So far from being able to profit by Nicholas's action, he discovered, though too late, that he had overreached himself in making so preposterous a statement about his enemy, and the army buzzed away through his fine woven web, leaving it dangling in the wind. He saw that his chance of power was over, and, accepting the inevitable, took his departure for Kalavryta, where he hoped his authority remained intact. But, alas! for the triumphal reception by the united army – alas! too, for his chance of the Patriarchate. His name, which he had prospectively throned in the hearts of myriads, was flotsam on the tide of their righteous anger against him, thrown up on the beach, tossed to and fro once or twice, and then left. His followers, the primates and bishops, less wise than he, still stayed on, hoping against hope that the popular favor would set their way. But the evil he and his had done lived after them; nothing now could undo the distrust and suspicion they had caused, for their first malignant slander had found fulfilment, and the army distrusted its officers, while the officers were not certain of their men. Nicholas had cleared himself, leaping with a shout of triumph free from the web spun round him; others had not the manliness to do the same, to challenge the evidence, for they knew there was evidence.

Nicholas found opportunity to tell Petrobey about Mitsos' love affairs, but a few days afterwards news came to the camp that a landing of the Turks from their western squadron was expected on the Gulf of Corinth, near Vostitza, and the prince, with some acuteness, found in this rumor sufficient reason to make his presence there desirable. Petrobey, wishing to have a speedy and reliable messenger who could communicate with the camp in the event taking place, sent Mitsos off with him, and before the end of the third week in September the prince took his departure in some haste, hoping to regain in fresh fields the loss of prestige he had suffered here and at Monemvasia. The news, if confirmed, was serious, for it meant that the Turkish squadron had evaded the Greek fleet and threatened the Morea from the north, while, if once a landing was effected, the Turks would, without doubt, march straight to the relief of Tripoli just when its need was sorest. The prince left the camp with much state and dignity, but with nothing else, and Mitsos, to whom he had given a place on his staff as aide-de-camp extraordinary to the Viceroy of Greece, with the rank of lieutenant in the Hellenic army, pranced gayly along on a fine-stepping horse, and for the first time fully sympathized with Nicholas's resignation. They travelled by short marches, "like women," as Mitsos described it afterwards, and one night the aide-de-camp extraordinary, having occasion to bring a message to his master, woke him out of his sleep, and saw the commander-in-chief in a night-cap, which left a deep, bilious impression on his barbarian mind wholly out of proportion to so innocuous a discovery.

For a time, at least, in Tripoli there was no more intriguing between the besiegers and the besieged, for Petrobey redoubled his vigilance, and every night sent down a corps of trustworthy men to lie in wait round the town. Meantime he knew a strong band of cavalry and a large force of Albanian mercenaries were within the town, and in the citadel was enough artillery to be formidable; so that while there was a chance of capitulation, provided the rumor of the expected landing of troops on the Gulf of Corinth continued unconfirmed, he was unwilling to make an assault on the town. But it began to be known that the fall of Tripoli was inevitable, and from all over the country the peasants flocked together on the hills waiting for the end and a share in the booty. It was in vain that Petrobey tried to drive them back; as soon as he had cleared one range of hills they swarmed upon another like sparrows in the vines, springing as it seemed from the ground, or as vultures grow in the air before a battle. Some came armed with guns, requesting to be enrolled in the various corps; others with sickles or reaping-hooks, or just with a knife or a stick. Every evening on the hills round shone out the fires of this unorganized rabble, gathering thicker and thicker as the days went on.

Then, on the 24th of September, a refugee from the town was captured and brought to the camp, and being promised his life if he gave intelligence of what was going on inside, told them that famine had begun; that many of the horses of the cavalry corps had been killed for meat, and that unless help came the end was but a matter of hours. Once again Petrobey consulted Nicholas, who advised an assault at once; but the other argued that as long as no news came of the reinforcements from the north the case of the town was hopeless, and as it was for the Greeks to demand terms, they might as well wait for a proposal to come. Nicholas disagreed; there had been treachery before in the camp; there might be treachery now. Let them, at any rate, minimize the disgrace to the nation. Petrobey in part yielded, and consented to do as Nicholas advised if no proposals were made in three days. In the mean time, since there was no longer any fear of the cavalry, they would move down closer onto the plain and directly below the walls. Then, if fire was opened on them from the citadel, they would storm it out of hand; but if not – and he had suspected for a long time that the guns were not all serviceable – they would wait for three days, unless Mitsos came back saying that reinforcements were on the way from the north.

CHAPTER X

THE FALL OF TRIPOLI

The order to break up camp was received with shouts of acclamation, and all day long on the 25th the processions of mules passed, like ants on a home run, up and down the steep, narrow path from the plain. The Mainat corps were the first to move, and took up their place opposite the southern wall, and worked there under the sun for a couple of hours or more throwing up some sort of earth embankment; while in the space behind marked out for their lines went up the rows of their barracks, pole by pole, and gradually roofed in with osier and oleander boughs. On the walls of the town lounged Turkish men, and now and then a woman passed, closely veiled, but casting curious glances at the advancing troops not four hundred yards from the gate. The men worked like horses to get their intrenchments and defences up, and by the time each corps had done its work, the huts behind were finished; and, streaming with perspiration, the men were glad to throw themselves down in the shade. As there was no regular corps of sappers and engineers, each regiment had to do its intrenching and defence work for itself, and they worked on late into the night before the transfer of the entire camp was effected. Meantime Petrobey had ordered the posts on the hills to the east to close in, and by noon on the 27th he saw his long-delayed dream realized, for on all sides of the town ran the Greek lines. Still, from inside the beleaguered place came no sign of resistance, attack, or capitulation; but towards sunset a white flag was hoisted on the tower above the south gate, and a few moments afterwards Mehemet Salik, attended by his staff, came out, and were met by Petrobey. Yanni, as aide-de-camp, was in attendance on his father, and he had the pleasure of meeting his old host again.

Mehemet followed Petrobey to his quarters, Yanni looking at him as a cat in the act to spring looks at a bird. He was a short-legged, stout man, appearing tall when he was sitting, but when he stood, heavy and badly proportioned. He had grown a little thinner, or so thought Yanni, and the skin hung bagging below his eyes, though he was still hardly more than thirty. He looked Yanni over from head to foot without speaking, adjusted his green turban, and then, shrugging his shoulders slightly, took a seat and turned to Petrobey.

"I have been sent to ask the terms on which you will grant a capitulation," he said; "please consider and name them."

"I will do so," replied Petrobey, "and let you have them by midnight."

Mehemet glanced at his watch.