The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence

"It is of Mitsos, too, I am thinking," said Nicholas. "Oh, Yanni, come and help me; there are butchers enough. Help me to find her."

Yanni stared at him a moment before he understood.

"Suleima," he cried, "God forgive us all! She in this town, and I had forgotten, and the Mavromichales are gone mad! If she is there – oh," and he threw down his knife, and looked stupid-like at his hands which were red and caked with blood and dust.

"Come and search for her, Yanni," said Nicholas again; "she is not in the house of Abdul, and every moment that she is in the streets may be her last."

"She left the house! Are you sure?" asked Yanni. "Where is it? Let us run there."

"I have been already," said Nicholas. "See, Yanni, you go one way and I another, and we will meet here again in an hour. Speak in Greek to every woman you see."

"Yes, yes," said Yanni; "which way shall I go? Oh, Mitsos, poor little Mitsos, and I killed two women myself, for they had knives and tried to stab me."

"Here, go steady, and be sensible," said Nicholas, for the boy seemed half beside himself. "Pick up your knife again; you were going unarmed. Do not stop, even to kill. Walk about, go where you hear a woman cry – God forgive us, but that is a task for a hundred – and speak to all in Greek. And be back here in an hour. Where is Petrobey?"

"In the house," said Yanni, and went off in the direction Nicholas had told him.

On that mad and ghastly day Petrobey was one of the few who had kept his head, and getting together a few sensible men, he had systematically worked his way up the street, stopping only to kill where there were signs of resistance. Open doors and men flying unarmed he left alone; there were plenty to do work like that; but he forced door after door where barricades had been put up, and attacked bodies of soldiers, who still from time to time charged out of some house or other, trying to force their way out to one of the gates. Without him and a few resolute bands of men it is possible that great slaughter would have taken place among the unarmed rabble who had followed the Greeks, and that a considerable body of men would have collected and won their way out of the city, and over the now undefended hills to Argos or Nauplia. He had also ordered up, under an armed escort, a train of provision-laden mules for the Mainats who were with him, and these supplies had just arrived before Nicholas came up.

"Stay with us and eat, dear cousin," he said to Nicholas, "for men cannot fight fasting. And, oh, Nicholas, but my life and all I have are yours, for you did not fail me when God and man forsook me!"

"Give me something, then, to take with me," said Nicholas, "for I have work before me. That girl of Mitsos' had left the house before I got there, and God knows where she is, alive or dead. I love the lad, and indeed we owe him a debt we can never repay for all he has done, and I should never forgive myself, nor hope for forgiveness, if I did not do what I could to find her."

Petrobey shook his head. "She may have taken refuge in some other house," he said. "If not – "

"Why should she fly from one house to another? If she is alive she is either somewhere in the streets, or it is just possible she has escaped."

Petrobey shook his head again.

"One woman fly in the face of that mob? God be with your kind heart, Nicholas. Poor little Mitsos, poor lad!"

Nicholas tore off a crust of bread, and staying only to swallow a draught of wine, went out again into the blinding glare of the streets. Everywhere it was the same ghastly scene over again: heaps of bodies; gutters with slow, oily streams of blood flowing and congealing; here a Turk wounded and in the last agony of death; there some young country lad shot through the heart, lying with open mouth and glazed eyes, which stared unblinkingly at the sun. Sometimes a woman lay across the path, while a little baby, still living and unhurt, lay beside where she had fallen, and groped with feeble, automatic hands for her breast. By them all without stopping went Nicholas, peering about for any sign of a living woman, but finding none. Very few apparently had been so desperate as to run into the street like Suleima, and though he felt the search wellnigh hopeless he went on. Once he came across a woman lying in the path, not yet dead, and as he bent over her she opened her eyes and spoke to him in Turkish. Nicholas questioned her in Greek, but she did not understand, and he went on again. In a little more than an hour he was back and found Yanni waiting for him, but he too had seen no sign of her they had never seen but sought.

All that afternoon the work went on, and at sunset Petrobey set a strong watch at all the gates, and he with most of the men went to sleep in the camp outside, where the air was less stifling and the poisonous breath from the murdered town came not. But Nicholas, who still hoped against hope, would not leave the place; by night, he thought, if Suleima was in hiding somewhere in the town she might try to steal back to the house, or attempt to escape by one of the gates; and he sat waiting in the doorway of Abdul Achmet's house till he fell asleep from sheer weariness, having seen naught but the dogs paddling about on their horrible errands. He woke early, before it was dawn, shivering and feeling ill; and thinking that his chill came only from exposure to the night air, got up and walked about, waiting for day. As soon as it was light he went out of the south gate to the Mainat camp, and had breakfast with Petrobey, who shook his head sadly over the absence of news.

Some sort of order was restored in the camp that day, and a third part of each of the four regular corps was stationed to blockade the citadel, while the others, in a more orderly manner and under the command of officers, went on with the sack of the town. The rabble who had passed in the day before were driven out of the place, and a watch set at each of the gates; but these measures were only half successful, for many took to hiding in the deserted houses, or, having been ejected, climbed back again at the Argive tower, or at other points of the walls where they could find entrance. Already many of the Greeks were ill with an ill-defined fever, which Petrobey put down to the effects of the foul, pestilence-laden atmosphere, and he employed a number of men to cart the dead out of the city and burn them. But they were not able to keep pace with the massacring which went on all day, and that evening the fever took a more pronounced and violent form in many of the eases, and before the morning of the 7th fifty or more Greeks, chiefly countrymen, who had slept two nights in the streets, were dead.

Just before dawn on the 7th a party of Turks made a sortie from the citadel and broke through the Greek lines. The alarm was given at once by the sentries, but the Turks were already among them before they were able to make any resistance, and after not more than ten minutes' fighting, they had broken their way through, and were doubling down the street towards the Argive gate. The guard there had sprung to arms at the sound of the disturbance above, and they engaged the Turks with somewhat better success, but more than half the original number got through and made straight for the unguarded hills between the plain and Argos.

Nicholas, who had passed a feverish, tossing night, feeling weak and weary, yet unable to sleep, had sprung up at once on the alarm, and was among the first to meet the charge. In the darkness the fighting was wild and random; they fought with shadows, and parrying a sword thrust aimed at his head, though he turned the blow aside, he felt the weapon wound him just below the shoulder, and the edge grate on the bone. Such rough aid as could be given him was at once administered. His arm was tightly bound above the wound to stop the bleeding from the severed artery, and, after the rough but often effective surgery of the day, the severed ends of the artery were cauterized and bound up, and the edges of the wound were brought together. No serious consequences were expected, for the flow of blood was soon checked, but for the present any further search for Suleima was out of the question. But a couple of hours later he grew more feverish and restless, and by ten o'clock on the morning of the 8th he was delirious, down with that swift and terrible fever which during the past night had already claimed many victims.

At mid-day the remainder of the garrison in the citadel surrendered unconditionally from want of water, for the whole supply had come from the lower town, and ten minutes later the Greek flag was flying from the tower. The shouts with which it was hailed roused Nicholas, who had sunk into a heavy sort of stupor, and he found Yanni sitting by his side.

"What is it?" he asked. "Have they found Suleima?"

"It is the citadel which has surrendered," said Yanni; "they have hoisted the flag on the tower."

Nicholas half raised himself. "Then the Morea is free from Corinth to Maina," he said. "O merciful and gracious Virgin! It only remains to find Suleima."

Presently after, he sank back into a stupor again, though every now and then he would stir and mutter something to himself.

"Why does not little Mitsos come?" he said, once; "tell him I want him. I did all I could to find her, but it was no use. Little Mitsos, there will be no more fire-ships … it was a devilish task to set you … don't you see the flag is flying; Tripoli has fallen; the Turks and their lusts are over forever; we are free!"

Then suddenly, in the loud strong voice which Yanni knew so well: "The Lord is a man of war!" he cried.

The news had run about the camp that Nicholas was down with the fever, and for the moment all paused when they heard. As every man in the place knew, his was the glory of the deed, and he the chief among those few to whose name honor, and nothing disgraceful, no weak deed or infirm purpose, were written. They had moved him out of the town unto the higher ground of the citadel, and into the top room of the tower on which the flag was flying. A great north wind sprang up that afternoon, and from the room where he lay could be heard the flapping of the flag. Those of the men who had any knowledge of medicine came flocking up to the citadel, begging to be allowed to see him, and suggesting a hundred remedies; and of these Petrobey chose one, who seemed to be sensible, and who it appeared had pulled a man through the worst of the fever, and he gave Nicholas such remedies as they could get.

That afternoon there was a division of the spoils taken, and in the evening, but not before a terrible and bloody deed had been done, three corps went back to their homes, the Mainats alone remaining. The Argives and Mainats, at any rate, had no hand in that devilish work, which must be passed over quickly. All the Turks – men, women, and children – who were found still alive were driven to the ravine behind Trikorpha, and some two thousand in number were all murdered.

It was, indeed, time to leave that pestilence-stricken town. During the day the fever had broken out with redoubled virulence among all those who had quartered themselves in the lower parts of the town, and the angel of death followed the victorious battalions into Arcadia, Argos, and Laconia, striking them right and left, and strewing the road with dying men. The judgment of God for those three ruthless days had come quickly. Mitsos' father, who had escaped unhurt, doing his quiet duty in the ranks of the Argives from the first, saw Petrobey before he left.

"Tell Mitsos to come quickly," he said. "And did you know Father Andréa has not been seen since the first morning?"

Meantime, in the north, it was found that the rumor of the Turkish landing was groundless, and Prince Demetrius was hurrying back to Tripoli. Germanos had joined him; but two days' march off the town, news of its capture was brought to them, on which Mitsos obtained permission to go on ahead to report the prince's coming, and announce that no landing of Turks had taken place. He travelled night and day, for his heart gave him wings, and late on the night of the 8th he reached Tripoli.

The unutterable stench in the streets struck him like death, and turned consciousness to a horrible dread. Shutting his eyes to the ghastly wreckage that strewed the ways, more horrible under the dim, filtering light from the clear-swept sky than even in daylight, he went quickly up to the citadel, where he supposed the troops would be. He was challenged by the sentry at the gate, who, seeing who he was, admitted him at once. He was taken straight to Petrobey's quarters, in the room just below where Nicholas lay.

The boy's voice was raised in eager question, but Petrobey hushed him.

"My poor lad," he said, "you must be brave, for we know you can be brave. We have not found her, and in the room above Nicholas lies dying. He has been asking for you; go to him at once, little Mitsos. I will send your food there."

Mitsos gave one gasping sigh.

"She may yet be here," he said; "where are the women and the prisoners?"

"There are no women and there are no prisoners," said Petrobey.

Mitsos stood silent a moment, looking at the other with bright, dry eyes, and swaying a little as he stood.

"And Uncle Nicholas is dying and has asked for me," he said. "Let me go to him."

CHAPTER XIII

NICHOLAS GOES HOME

The room was lighted by an oil-lamp, turned low and shaded from the sick man. Yanni, who had been watching all night, was lying on the floor, dozing from sheer weariness; but he woke at the sound of Mitsos' entering, and got up.

"Oh, Mitsos, you have come," he whispered, "he has asked for you so often."

"Leave me alone here," said Mitsos, and the two were left together.

Nicholas was lying with eyes only half closed, and Mitsos knelt by the bed.

"Uncle, dear uncle," he said, "I have come."

Nicholas only frowned, and passed his hand wearily over his eyes. The other bandaged arm was lying outside the thin bed-covering under which he lay.

"I looked everywhere," he muttered, "and I could not find her. Will little Mitsos ever forgive me, I wonder – yet I did all I could. Why does not the dear lad come? Has he forsaken me?.. No, it will never do; this traffic brings disgrace on us all. Stop it, Petrobey, stop it, in God's name… Ah, that is better, up, up, hand over hand, quick, give me the flag. Where is the flag, O devils of the pit? but give it me. Ah, you are no better than the Turks… Yes, I will pay you well to give it me, if that is what you want. A million piastres? I will give you two millions… Ah, up with it."