BOOK VI: THE PURSUIT IN THE FOREST
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.
July 3, 1907.
There is no anodyne but work to pain of the heart; and my pain is all
of the heart. I sometimes feel that it is rather hard that with so
much to make me happy I cannot know happiness. How can I be happy
when my wife, whom I fondly love, and who I know loves me, is
suffering in horror and loneliness of a kind which is almost beyond
human belief? However, what is my loss is my country's gain, for the
Land of the Blue Mountains is my country now, despite the fact that I
am still a loyal subject of good King Edward. Uncle Roger took care
of that when he said I should have the consent of the Privy Council
before I might be naturalized anywhere else.
When I got home yesterday morning I naturally could not sleep. The
events of the night and the bitter disappointment that followed my
exciting joy made such a thing impossible. When I drew the curtain
over the window, the reflection of the sunrise was just beginning to
tinge the high-sailing clouds in front of me. I laid down and tried
to rest, but without avail. However, I schooled myself to lie still,
and at last, if I did not sleep, was at least quiescent.
Disturbed by a gentle tap at the door, I sprang up at once and threw
on a dressing gown. Outside, when I opened the door, was Aunt Janet.
She was holding a lighted candle in her hand, for though it was
getting light in the open, the passages were still dark. When she
saw me she seemed to breathe more freely, and asked if she might come
in.
Whilst she sat on the edge of my bed, in her old-time way, she said
in a hushed voice:
"Oh, laddie, laddie, I trust yer burden is no too heavy to bear."
"My burden! What on earth do you mean, Aunt Janet?" I said in reply.
I did not wish to commit myself by a definite answer, for it was
evident that she had been dreaming or Second Sighting again. She
replied with the grim seriousness usual to her when she touched on
occult matters:
"I saw your hairt bleeding, laddie. I kent it was yours, though how
I kent it I don't know. It lay on a stone floor in the dark, save
for a dim blue light such as corpse-lights are. On it was placed a
great book, and close around were scattered many strange things,
amongst them two crowns o' flowers--the one bound wi' silver, the
other wi' gold. There was also a golden cup, like a chalice,
o'erturned. The red wine trickled from it an' mingled wi' yer
hairt's bluid; for on the great book was some vast dim weight wrapped
up in black, and on it stepped in turn many men all swathed in black.
An' as the weight of each came on it the bluid gushed out afresh.
And oh, yer puir hairt, my laddie, was quick and leaping, so that at
every beat it raised the black-clad weight! An' yet that was not
all, for hard by stood a tall imperial shape o' a woman, all arrayed
in white, wi' a great veil o' finest lace worn o'er a shrood. An'
she was whiter than the snow, an' fairer than the morn for beauty;
though a dark woman she was, wi' hair like the raven, an' eyes black
as the sea at nicht, an' there was stars in them. An' at each beat
o' yer puir bleeding hairt she wrung her white hands, an' the manin'
o' her sweet voice rent my hairt in twain. Oh, laddie, laddie! what
does it mean?"
I managed to murmur: "I'm sure I don't know, Aunt Janet. I suppose
it was all a dream!"
"A dream it was, my dear. A dream or a veesion, whilka matters nane,
for a' such are warnin's sent frae God . . . " Suddenly she said in
a different voice:
"Laddie, hae ye been fause to any lassie? I'm no blamin' ye. For ye
men are different frae us women, an' yer regard on recht and wrang
differs from oors. But oh, laddie, a woman's tears fa' heavy when
her hairt is for sair wi' the yieldin' to fause words. 'Tis a heavy
burden for ony man to carry wi' him as he goes, an' may well cause
pain to ithers that he fain would spare." She stopped, and in dead
silence waited for me to speak. I thought it would be best to set
her poor loving heart at rest, and as I could not divulge my special
secret, spoke in general terms:
"Aunt Janet, I am a man, and have led a man's life, such as it is.
But I can tell you, who have always loved me and taught me to be
true, that in all the world there is no woman who must weep for any
falsity of mine. If close there be any who, sleeping or waking, in
dreams or visions or in reality, weeps because of me, it is surely
not for my doing, but because of something outside me. It may be
that her heart is sore because I must suffer, as all men must in some
degree; but she does not weep for or through any act of mine."
She sighed happily at my assurance, and looked up through her tears,
for she was much moved; and after tenderly kissing my forehead and
blessing me, stole away. She was more sweet and tender than I have
words to say, and the only regret that I have in all that is gone is
that I have not been able to bring my wife to her, and let her share
in the love she has for me. But that, too, will come, please God!
In the morning I sent a message to Rooke at Otranto, instructing him
by code to bring the yacht to Vissarion in the coming night.
All day I spent in going about amongst the mountaineers, drilling
them and looking after their arms. I COULD not stay still. My only
chance of peace was to work, my only chance of sleep to tire myself
out. Unhappily, I am very strong, so even when I came home at dark I
was quite fresh. However, I found a cable message from Rooke that
the yacht would arrive at midnight.
There was no need to summon the mountaineers, as the men in the
Castle would be sufficient to make preparations for the yacht's
coming.
LATER.
The yacht has come. At half-past eleven the lookout signalled that a
steamer without lights was creeping in towards the Creek. I ran out
to the Flagstaff, and saw her steal in like a ghost. She is painted
a steely blue-grey, and it is almost impossible to see her at any
distance. She certainly goes wonderfully. Although there was not
enough throb from the engines to mar the absolute stillness, she came
on at a fine speed, and within a few minutes was close to the boom.
I had only time to run down to give orders to draw back the boom when
she glided in and stopped dead at the harbour wall. Rooke steered
her himself, and he says he never was on a boat that so well or so
quickly answered her helm. She is certainly a beauty, and so far as
I can see at night perfect in every detail. I promise myself a few
pleasant hours over her in the daylight. The men seem a splendid
lot.
But I do not feel sleepy; I despair of sleep to-night. But work
demands that I be fit for whatever may come, and so I shall try to
sleep--to rest, at any rate.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL.--Continued.
July 4, 1907.
I was up with the first ray of sunrise, so by the time I had my bath
and was dressed there was ample light. I went down to the dock at
once, and spent the morning looking over the vessel, which fully
justifies Rooke's enthusiasm about her. She is built on lovely
lines, and I can quite understand that she is enormously fast. Her
armour I can only take on the specifications, but her armament is
really wonderful. And there are not only all the very newest devices
of aggressive warfare--indeed, she has the newest up-to-date
torpedoes and torpedo-guns--but also the old-fashioned rocket-tubes,
which in certain occasions are so useful. She has electric guns and
the latest Massillon water-guns, and Reinhardt electro-pneumatic
"deliverers" for pyroxiline shells. She is even equipped with war-
balloons easy of expansion, and with compressible Kitson aeroplanes.
I don't suppose that there is anything quite like her in the world.
The crew are worthy of her. I can't imagine where Rooke picked up
such a splendid lot of men. They are nearly all man-of-warsmen; of
various nationalities, but mostly British. All young men--the oldest
of them hasn't got into the forties--and, so far as I can learn, all
experts of one kind or another in some special subject of warfare.
It will go hard with me, but I shall keep them together.
How I got through the rest of the day I know not. I tried hard not
to create any domestic trouble by my manner, lest Aunt Janet should,
after her lurid dream or vision of last night, attach some new
importance to it. I think I succeeded, for she did not, so far as I
could tell, take any special notice of me. We parted as usual at
half-past ten, and I came here and made this entry in my journal. I
am more restless than ever to-night, and no wonder. I would give
anything to be able to pay a visit to St. Sava's, and see my wife
again--if it were only sleeping in her tomb. But I dare not do even
that, lest she should come to see me here, and I should miss her. So
I have done what I can. The glass door to the Terrace is open, so
that she can enter at once if she comes. The fire is lit, and the
room is warm. There is food ready in case she should care for it. I
have plenty of light in the room, so that through the aperture where
I have not fully drawn the curtain there may be light to guide her.
Oh, how the time drags! The clock has struck midnight. One, two!
Thank goodness, it will shortly be dawn, and the activity of the day
may begin! Work may again prove, in a way, to be an anodyne. In the
meantime I must write on, lest despair overwhelm me.
Once during the night I thought I heard a footstep outside. I rushed
to the window and looked out, but there was nothing to see, no sound
to hear. That was a little after one o'clock. I feared to go
outside, lest that should alarm her; so I came back to my table. I
could not write, but I sat as if writing for a while. But I could
not stand it, so rose and walked about the room. As I walked I felt
that my Lady--it gives me a pang every time I remember that I do not
know even her name--was not quite so far away from me. It made my
heart beat to think that it might mean that she was coming to me.
Could not I as well as Aunt Janet have a little Second Sight! I went
towards the window, and, standing behind the curtain, listened. Far
away I thought I heard a cry, and ran out on the Terrace; but there
was no sound to be heard, and no sign of any living thing anywhere;
so I took it for granted that it was the cry of some night bird, and
came back to my room, and wrote at my journal till I was calm. I
think my nerves must be getting out of order, when every sound of the
night seems to have a special meaning for me.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.
July 7, 1907
When the grey of the morning came, I gave up hope of my wife
appearing, and made up my mind that, so soon as I could get away
without exciting Aunt Janet's attention, I would go to St. Sava's. I
always eat a good breakfast, and did I forgo it altogether, it would
be sure to excite her curiosity--a thing I do not wish at present.
As there was still time to wait, I lay down on my bed as I was, and--
such is the way of Fate--shortly fell asleep.
I was awakened by a terrific clattering at my door. When I opened it
I found a little group of servants, very apologetic at awaking me
without instructions. The chief of them explained that a young
priest had come from the Vladika with a message so urgent that he
insisted on seeing me immediately at all hazards. I came out at
once, and found him in the hall of the Castle, standing before the
great fire, which was always lit in the early morning. He had a
letter in his hand, but before giving it to me he said:
"I am sent by the Vladika, who pressed on me that I was not to lose a
single instant in seeing you; that time is of golden price--nay,
beyond price. This letter, amongst other things, vouches for me. A
terrible misfortune has occurred. The daughter of our leader has
disappeared during last night--the same, he commanded me to remind
you, that he spoke of at the meeting when he would not let the
mountaineers fire their guns. No sign of her can be found, and it is
believed that she has been carried off by the emissaries of the
Sultan of Turkey, who once before brought our nations to the verge of
war by demanding her as a wife. I was also to say that the Vladika
Plamenac would have come himself, but that it was necessary that he
should at once consult with the Archbishop, Stevan Palealogue, as to
what step is best to take in this dire calamity. He has sent out a
search-party under the Archimandrite of Spazac, Petrof Vlastimir, who
is to come on here with any news he can get, as you have command of
the signalling, and can best spread the news. He knows that you,
Gospodar, are in your great heart one of our compatriots, and that
you have already proved your friendship by many efforts to strengthen
our hands for war. And as a great compatriot, he calls on you to aid
us in our need." He then handed me the letter, and stood by
respectfully whilst I broke the seal and read it. It was written in
great haste, and signed by the Vladika.
"Come with us now in our nation's peril. Help us to rescue what we
most adore, and henceforth we shall hold you in our hearts. You
shall learn how the men of the Blue Mountains can love faith and
valour. Come!"
This was a task indeed--a duty worthy of any man. It thrilled me to
the core to know that the men of the Blue Mountains had called on me
in their dire need. It woke all the fighting instinct of my Viking
forbears, and I vowed in my heart that they should be satisfied with
my work. I called to me the corps of signallers who were in the
house, and led them to the Castle roof, taking with me the young
messenger-priest.
"Come with me," I said to him, "and see how I answer the Vladika's
command."
The National flag was run up--the established signal that the nation
was in need. Instantly on every summit near and far was seen the
flutter of an answering flag. Quickly followed the signal that
commanded the call to arms.
One by one I gave the signallers orders in quick succession, for the
plan of search unfolded itself to me as I went on. The arms of the
semaphore whirled in a way that made the young priest stare. One by
one, as they took their orders, the signallers seemed to catch fire.
Instinctively they understood the plan, and worked like demigods.
They knew that so widespread a movement had its best chance in
rapidity and in unity of action.
From the forest which lay in sight of the Castle came a wild
cheering, which seemed to interpret the former stillness of the
hills. It was good to feel that those who saw the signals--types of
many--were ready. I saw the look of expectation on the face of the
messenger-priest, and rejoiced at the glow that came as I turned to
him to speak. Of course, he wanted to know something of what was
going on. I saw the flashing of my own eyes reflected in his as I
spoke:
"Tell the Vladika that within a minute of his message being read the
Land of the Blue Mountains was awake. The mountaineers are already
marching, and before the sun is high there will be a line of guards
within hail of each other round the whole frontier--from Angusa to
Ilsin; from Ilsin to Bajana; from Bajana to Ispazar; from Ispazar to
Volok; from Volok to Tatra; from Tatra to Domitan; from Domitan to
Gravaja; and from Gravaja back to Angusa. The line is double. The
old men keep guard on the line, and the young men advance. These
will close in at the advancing line, so that nothing can escape them.
They will cover mountain-top and forest depth, and will close in
finally on the Castle here, which they can behold from afar. My own
yacht is here, and will sweep the coast from end to end. It is the
fastest boat afloat, and armed against a squadron. Here will all
signals come. In an hour where we stand will be a signal bureau,
where trained eyes will watch night and day till the lost one has
been found and the outrage has been avenged. The robbers are even
now within a ring of steel, and cannot escape."
The young priest, all on fire, sprang on the battlements and shouted
to the crowd, which was massing round the Castle in the gardens far
below. The forest was giving up its units till they seemed like the
nucleus of an army. The men cheered lustily, till the sound swung
high up to us like the roaring of a winter sea. With bared heads
they were crying:
"God and the Blue Mountains! God and the Blue Mountains!"
I ran down to them as quickly as I could, and began to issue their
instructions. Within a time to be computed by minutes the whole
number, organized by sections, had started to scour the neighbouring
mountains. At first they had only understood the call to arms for
general safety. But when they learned that the daughter of a chief
had been captured, they simply went mad. From something which the
messenger first said, but which I could not catch or did not
understand, the blow seemed to have for them some sort of personal
significance which wrought them to a frenzy.
When the bulk of the men had disappeared, I took with me a few of my
own men and several of the mountaineers whom I had asked to remain,
and together we went to the hidden ravine which I knew. We found the
place empty; but there were unmistakable signs that a party of men
had been encamped there for several days. Some of our men, who were
skilled in woodcraft and in signs generally, agreed that there must
have been some twenty of them. As they could not find any trail
either coming to or going from the place, they came to the conclusion
that they must have come separately from different directions and
gathered there, and that they must have departed in something of the
same mysterious way.
However, this was, at any rate, some sort of a beginning, and the men
separated, having agreed amongst themselves to make a wide cast round
the place in the search for tracks. Whoever should find a trail was
to follow with at least one comrade, and when there was any definite
news, it was to be signalled to the Castle.
I myself returned at once, and set the signallers to work to spread
amongst our own people such news as we had.
When presently such discoveries as had been made were signalled with
flags to the Castle, it was found that the marauders had, in their
flight, followed a strangely zigzag course. It was evident that, in
trying to baffle pursuit, they had tried to avoid places which they
thought might be dangerous to them. This may have been simply a
method to disconcert pursuit. If so, it was, in a measure,
excellent, for none of those immediately following could possibly
tell in what direction they were heading. It was only when we worked
the course on the great map in the signaller's room (which was the
old guard room of the Castle) that we could get an inkling of the
general direction of their flight. This gave added trouble to the
pursuit; for the men who followed, being ignorant of their general
intent, could not ever take chance to head them off, but had to be
ready to follow in any or every direction. In this manner the
pursuit was altogether a stern chase, and therefore bound to be a
long one.
As at present we could not do anything till the intended route was
more marked, I left the signalling corps to the task of receiving and
giving information to the moving bands, so that, if occasion served,
they might head off the marauders. I myself took Rooke, as captain
of the yacht, and swept out of the creek. We ran up north to
Dalairi, then down south to Olesso, and came back to Vissarion. We
saw nothing suspicious except, far off to the extreme southward, one
warship which flew no flag. Rooke, however, who seemed to know ships
by instinct, said she was a Turk; so on our return we signalled along
the whole shore to watch her. Rooke held The Lady--which was the
name I had given the armoured yacht--in readiness to dart out in case
anything suspicious was reported. He was not to stand on any
ceremony, but if necessary to attack. We did not intend to lose a
point in this desperate struggle which we had undertaken. We had
placed in different likely spots a couple of our own men to look
after the signalling.
When I got back I found that the route of the fugitives, who had now
joined into one party, had been definitely ascertained. They had
gone south, but manifestly taking alarm from the advancing line of
guards, had headed up again to the north-east, where the country was
broader and the mountains wilder and less inhabited.
Forthwith, leaving the signalling altogether in the hands of the
fighting priests, I took a small chosen band of the mountaineers of
our own district, and made, with all the speed we could, to cut
across the track of the fugitives a little ahead of them. The
Archimandrite (Abbot) of Spazac, who had just arrived, came with us.
He is a splendid man--a real fighter as well as a holy cleric, as
good with his handjar as with his Bible, and a runner to beat the
band. The marauders were going at a fearful pace, considering that
they were all afoot; so we had to go fast also! Amongst these
mountains there is no other means of progressing. Our own men were
so aflame with ardour that I could not but notice that they, more
than any of the others whom I had seen, had some special cause for
concern.
When I mentioned it to the Archimandrite, who moved by my side, he
answered:
"All natural enough; they are not only fighting for their country,
but for their own!" I did not quite understand his answer, and so
began to ask him some questions, to the effect that I soon began to
understand a good deal more than he did.
Letter from Archbishop Stevan Palealogue, Head of the Eastern Church
of the Blue Mountains, to the Lady Janet MacKelpie, Vissarion.
Written July 9, 1907.
HONOURED LADY,
As you wish for an understanding regarding the late lamentable
occurrence in which so much danger was incurred to this our Land of
the Blue Mountains, and one dear to us, I send these words by request
of the Gospodar Rupert, beloved of our mountaineers.
When the Voivode Peter Vissarion made his journey to the great nation
to whom we looked in our hour of need, it was necessary that he
should go in secret. The Turk was at our gates, and full of the
malice of baffled greed. Already he had tried to arrange a marriage
with the Voivodin, so that in time to come he, as her husband, might
have established a claim to the inheritance of the land. Well he
knew, as do all men, that the Blue Mountaineers owe allegiance to
none that they themselves do not appoint to rulership. This has been
the history in the past. But now and again an individual has arisen
or come to the front adapted personally for such government as this
land requires. And so the Lady Teuta, Voivodin of the Blue
Mountains, was put for her proper guarding in the charge of myself as
Head of the Eastern Church in the Land of the Blue Mountains, steps
being taken in such wise that no capture of her could be effected by
unscrupulous enemies of this our Land. This task and guardianship
was gladly held as an honour by all concerned. For the Voivodin
Teuta of Vissarion must be taken as representing in her own person
the glory of the old Serb race, inasmuch as being the only child of
the Voivode Vissarion, last male of his princely race--the race which
ever, during the ten centuries of our history, unflinchingly gave
life and all they held for the protection, safety, and well-being of
the Land of the Blue Mountains. Never during those centuries had any
one of the race been known to fail in patriotism, or to draw back
from any loss or hardship enjoined by high duty or stress of need.
Moreover, this was the race of that first Voivode Vissarion, of whom,
in legend, it was prophesied that he--once known as "The Sword of
Freedom," a giant amongst men--would some day, when the nation had
need of him, come forth from his water-tomb in the lost Lake of Reo,
and lead once more the men of the Blue Mountains to lasting victory.
This noble race, then, had come to be known as the last hope of the
Land. So that when the Voivode was away on his country's service,
his daughter should be closely guarded. Soon after the Voivode had
gone, it was reported that he might be long delayed in his
diplomacies, and also in studying the system of Constitutional
Monarchy, for which it had been hoped to exchange our imperfect
political system. I may say inter alia that he was mentioned as to
be the first king when the new constitution should have been
arranged.
Then a great misfortune came on us; a terrible grief overshadowed the
land. After a short illness, the Voivodin Teuta Vissarion died
mysteriously of a mysterious ailment. The grief of the mountaineers
was so great that it became necessary for the governing Council to
warn them not to allow their sorrow to be seen. It was imperatively
necessary that the fact of her death should be kept secret. For
there were dangers and difficulties of several kinds. In the first
place it was advisable that even her father should be kept in
ignorance of his terrible loss. It was well known that he held her
as the very core of his heart and that if he should hear of her
death, he would be too much prostrated to be able to do the intricate
and delicate work which he had undertaken. Nay, more: he would
never remain afar off, under the sad circumstances, but would
straightway return, so as to be in the land where she lay. Then
suspicions would crop up, and the truth must shortly be known afield,
with the inevitable result that the Land would become the very centre
of a war of many nations.
In the second place, if the Turks were to know that the race of
Vissarion was becoming extinct, this would encourage them to further
aggression, which would become immediate should they find out that
the Voivode was himself away. It was well known that they were
already only suspending hostilities until a fitting opportunity
should arise. Their desire for aggression had become acute after the
refusal of the nation, and of the girl herself, that she should
become a wife of the Sultan.
The dead girl had been buried in the Crypt of the church of St. Sava,
and day after day and night after night, singly and in parties, the
sorrowing mountaineers had come to pay devotion and reverence at her
tomb. So many had wished to have a last glimpse of her face that the
Vladika had, with my own consent as Archbishop, arranged for a glass
cover to be put over the stone coffin wherein her body lay.
After a little time, however, there came a belief to all concerned in
the guarding of the body--these, of course, being the priests of
various degrees of dignity appointed to the task--that the Voivodin
was not really dead, but only in a strangely-prolonged trance.
Thereupon a new complication arose. Our mountaineers are, as perhaps
you know, by nature deeply suspicious--a characteristic of all brave
and self-sacrificing people who are jealous of their noble heritage.
Having, as they believed, seen the girl dead, they might not be
willing to accept the fact of her being alive. They might even
imagine that there was on foot some deep, dark plot which was, or
might be, a menace, now or hereafter, to their independence. In any
case, there would be certain to be two parties on the subject, a
dangerous and deplorable thing in the present condition of affairs.
As the trance, or catalepsy, whatever it was, continued for many
days, there had been ample time for the leaders of the Council, the
Vladika, the priesthood represented by the Archimandrite of Spazac,
myself as Archbishop and guardian of the Voivodin in her father's
absence, to consult as to a policy to be observed in case of the girl
awaking. For in such case the difficulty of the situation would be
multiplied indefinitely. In the secret chambers of St. Sava's we had
many secret meetings, and were finally converging on agreement when
the end of the trance came.
The girl awoke!
She was, of course, terribly frightened when she found herself in a
tomb in the Crypt. It was truly fortunate that the great candles
around her tomb had been kept lighted, for their light mitigated the
horror of the place. Had she waked in darkness, her reason might
have become unseated.
She was, however, a very noble girl; brave, with extraordinary will,
and resolution, and self-command, and power of endurance. When she
had been taken into one of the secret chambers of the church, where
she was warmed and cared for, a hurried meeting was held by the
Vladika, myself, and the chiefs of the National Council. Word had
been at once sent to me of the joyful news of her recovery; and with
the utmost haste I came, arriving in time to take a part in the
Council.
At the meeting the Voivodin was herself present, and full confidence
of the situation was made to her. She herself proposed that the
belief in her death should be allowed to prevail until the return of
her father, when all could be effectively made clear. To this end
she undertook to submit to the terrific strain which such a
proceeding would involve. At first we men could not believe that any
woman could go through with such a task, and some of us did not
hesitate to voice our doubts--our disbelief. But she stood to her
guns, and actually down-faced us. At the last we, remembering things
that had been done, though long ages ago, by others of her race, came
to believe not merely in her self-belief and intention, but even in
the feasibility of her plan. She took the most solemn oaths not to
betray the secret under any possible stress.
The priesthood undertook through the Vladika and myself to further a
ghostly belief amongst the mountaineers which would tend to prevent a
too close or too persistent observation. The Vampire legend was
spread as a protection against partial discovery by any mischance,
and other weird beliefs were set afoot and fostered. Arrangements
were made that only on certain days were the mountaineers to be
admitted to the Crypt, she agreeing that for these occasions she was
to take opiates or carry out any other aid to the preservation of the
secret. She was willing, she impressed upon us, to make any personal
sacrifice which might be deemed necessary for the carrying out her
father's task for the good of the nation.
Of course, she had at first terrible frights lying alone in the
horror of the Crypt. But after a time the terrors of the situation,
if they did not cease, were mitigated. There are secret caverns off
the Crypt, wherein in troublous times the priests and others of high
place have found safe retreat. One of these was prepared for the
Voivodin, and there she remained, except for such times as she was on
show--and certain other times of which I shall tell you. Provision
was made for the possibility of any accidental visit to the church.
At such times, warned by an automatic signal from the opening door,
she was to take her place in the tomb. The mechanism was so arranged
that the means to replace the glass cover, and to take the opiate,
were there ready to her hand. There was to be always a watch of
priests at night in the church, to guard her from ghostly fears as
well as from more physical dangers; and if she was actually in her
tomb, it was to be visited at certain intervals. Even the draperies
which covered her in the sarcophagus were rested on a bridge placed
from side to side just above her, so as to hide the rising and
falling of her bosom as she slept under the narcotic.
After a while the prolonged strain began to tell so much on her that
it was decided that she should take now and again exercise out of
doors. This was not difficult, for when the Vampire story which we
had spread began to be widely known, her being seen would be accepted
as a proof of its truth. Still, as there was a certain danger in her
being seen at all, we thought it necessary to exact from her a solemn
oath that so long as her sad task lasted she should under no
circumstances ever wear any dress but her shroud--this being the only
way to insure secrecy and to prevail against accident.
There is a secret way from the Crypt to a sea cavern, whose entrance
is at high-tide under the water-line at the base of the cliff on
which the church is built. A boat, shaped like a coffin, was
provided for her; and in this she was accustomed to pass across the
creek whenever she wished to make excursion. It was an excellent
device, and most efficacious in disseminating the Vampire belief.
This state of things had now lasted from before the time when the
Gospodar Rupert came to Vissarion up to the day of the arrival of the
armoured yacht.
That night the priest on duty, on going his round of the Crypt just
before dawn, found the tomb empty. He called the others, and they
made full search. The boat was gone from the cavern, but on making
search they found it on the farther side of the creek, close to the
garden stairs. Beyond this they could discover nothing. She seemed
to have disappeared without leaving a trace.
Straightway they went to the Vladika, and signalled to me by the
fire-signal at the monastery at Astrag, where I then was. I took a
band of mountaineers with me, and set out to scour the country. But
before going I sent an urgent message to the Gospodar Rupert, asking
him, who showed so much interest and love to our Land, to help us in
our trouble. He, of course, knew nothing then of all have now told
you. Nevertheless, he devoted himself whole-heartedly to our needs--
as doubtless you know.
But the time had now come close when the Voivode Vissarion was about
to return from his mission; and we of the council of his daughter's
guardianship were beginning to arrange matters so that at his return
the good news of her being still alive could be made public. With
her father present to vouch for her, no question as to truth could
arise.
But by some means the Turkish "Bureau of Spies" must have got
knowledge of the fact already. To steal a dead body for the purpose
of later establishing a fictitious claim would have been an
enterprise even more desperate than that already undertaken. We
inferred from many signs, made known to us in an investigation, that
a daring party of the Sultan's emissaries had made a secret incursion
with the object of kidnapping the Voivodin. They must have been bold
of heart and strong of resource to enter the Land of the Blue
Mountains on any errand, let alone such a desperate one as this. For
centuries we have been teaching the Turk through bitter lessons that
it is neither a safe task nor an easy one to make incursion here.
How they did it we know not--at present; but enter they did, and,
after waiting in some secret hiding-place for a favourable
opportunity, secured their prey. We know not even now whether they
had found entrance to the Crypt and stole, as they thought, the dead
body, or whether, by some dire mischance, they found her abroad--
under her disguise as a ghost. At any rate, they had captured her,
and through devious ways amongst the mountains were bearing her back
to Turkey. It was manifest that when she was on Turkish soil the
Sultan would force a marriage on her so as eventually to secure for
himself or his successors as against all other nations a claim for
the suzerainty or guardianship of the Blue Mountains.
