The Pobratim: A Slav Novel

"When I was about ten or twelve years – I cannot say exactly how old I was, as all the registers have been destroyed – a terrible revolution took place. It was, I remember, an awful time, when Christian blood ran in streams through the streets of towns and villages, when houses were burnt down, and the whole island remained a mass of smouldering ruins.

"My father was, if I am not mistaken, the first victim of that bloody fray; like all men of pluck, and indeed like most men of no pluck at all, he was butchered by the Turks. My mother – "

There was a pause. A tear glistened in the corner of the old man's eye, then it rolled down his wrinkled cheek and disappeared in the long, bristling white moustache; his voice faltered. Though more than half a century had passed since that dreadful day, still he could hardly speak about it. After a moment he added, drily:

"My mother fell into the hands of those dogs. I was separated from my brothers. The youngest, as I was told, was taken by those fiends. He was a bright, handsome boy; they made a Turk of him. My other brother disappeared; for days I sought him everywhere, but I could not find him.

"Before I go on with the story of my life, I must tell you that all the men in the Giulianic family have, since immemorial times, a bright red stain, like a small drop of blood, on the nape of the neck, just about where the collar-bone is bound to the skull. Its peculiarity is that its colour increases and decreases with the lunar phases. Besides this, my father in those troubled times, foreseeing that the day might come when we should be snatched from him, caused a little Greek Cross to be tattooed upon us."

Here, suiting the action to the words, he bared his left breast and showed us the holy sign just near the place where the heart is seen to throb.

"Thus, to resume the story of my life, when I was hardly twelve I found myself an orphan, alone and penniless. The night of that dreadful day I went to cry by the smouldering ruins of our house, looking if I could at least find the mangled remains of that father whom I loved so dearly. When morning came, I knew that I was not only turned adrift upon this wide world, but that I had to flee, whither I knew not. I lurked about in all kinds of hiding-places, and when I crawled out I always seemed to hear the steps and the voices of those bloodthirsty murderers. The falling leaf, the sudden flight of a locust, the chirrup of an insect filled me with terror, and indeed more than once, hidden within a bush or crouching behind a stone, I saw the tall zeibeks, those fierce-looking mountaineers, the scourge of the country far around, in search of prey. For days I managed to live, I really do not know how, but principally on oranges, I think. One day, being on the strand and seeing a vessel riding at anchor at some distance, I swam up to it. The captain, who was a Dalmatian, took pity on me, and brought me to Zara, whither his ship was bound. From that time I managed to drag on through life; still, I should not have been unhappy had I been able to forget.

"After several years of hard struggle, I at last went to Mostar; there fate, tired of persecuting me, began to be more favourable. I was prosperous in all my undertakings; I married; then my restlessness began to wear away, I thought I had settled down for life. Had I only been able to find out something about my lost brothers, I do not think anything more would have been wanting to my happiness.

"Years passed, aye, a good many years since those terrible days which had blighted my childhood, for my eldest child, who died soon afterwards, was then about the age I had been when I was bereft of kith and kin. It happened that one day – stop, it was on Easter Monday – I was having a picnic with some friends at a farm belonging to my wife's father. We were sauntering in the fields, enjoying the beauty of the country, which at that time was in all its bloom, when looking down from a height upon the road beneath, we saw a cloud of dust. We stopped to look, and we perceived at a few yards from us, two or three panting men evidently running for their lives.

"They were all armed, not only with daggers and pistols, but also with long muskets. At twenty paces behind them came half-a-dozenzaptiehs, or guards.

"The highwaymen, for such they seemed to us, evidently tired out, were losing ground at every step, and the Turks were about to overtake them. All at once the robbers reached a corner of the road, just under the hill on which we were standing; there the foremost man amongst them stopped, and after bidding the others to be off, he put his musket to his shoulder. When the zaptiehs came nearer, he called to them to turn back if they cared for their lives. There was a moment of indecision amongst the guards; each one looked upon his neighbour, wondering what he would do, when the one who seemed to be their officer took out his pistol and pointed it at the highwayman, calling to him to give up. For all reply, the robber took a deliberate aim at the Turk. Both men fired at once. The guards, astonished, stood back for a trice. The Turk fell, the highwayman remained unhurt; thereupon he laid by his gun and took out a revolver. The guards came up and fired off their weapons; the robber fell, apparently shot through by many balls.

"The zaptiehs stopped for a moment to look at their companion; they undid his clothes. Life was already extinct; the highwayman's bullet had struck him above the left breast, and, taking a downward course, it had pierced the heart. Death must have been instantaneous. By the signs of grief given to him, the man must have been admired and beloved by his companions; but their sorrow seemed all at once to melt into hatred and a thirst for revenge, so that they all rose and ran after the two fugitives, evidently hoping to overtake them.

"I can hardly describe the feelings that arose in my breast at that sight; it was the first time in my life that I had beheld the corpse of a Turk, not only without any feeling of exultation, but even with a sense of deep pity.

"'He was a brave man,' said I to my friends; 'therefore he must have been a good man.'

"As soon as the zaptiehs were out of sight, we ran down to see the two men, and ascertain if life were quite extinct in them.

"I went up to the Turkish guard. I lifted up his lifeless head, and, as I did so, my heart was filled with love and sorrow. He was a stalwart, handsome man, in the flower of his years.

"'Is he quite dead?' I asked myself; 'is he not, perhaps, only wounded?'

"I opened his vest to look at the wound, and as I laid his chest bare, there, to my astonishment, grief and dismay, below the left breast, pricked in tiny blue dots, was the sign of the holy Cross – the Greek Cross, like the one which had been tattooed on my own flesh.

"I felt faint as I beheld it; my eyes grew dim, my hands fell lifeless. Was this man one of my long-lost brothers?

"My strength returned; with feverish hands I sought the mark on the nape of the neck. It was full-moon; therefore the stain was not only visible, but as red as the blood which flowed from his wounds.

"A feeling of faintness came over me again; I knew that I was deadly pale. I uttered a cry as I pressed the lifeless head to my heart.

"This man, no doubt, was my youngest brother, whom those hell-hounds had snatched away from our mother's breast upon that dreadful day, and – cursed be their race for ever – they had made a Turkish guard of him.

"His head was lying upon my lap; I bowed upon it and covered it with kisses.

"My wife and all my friends, seeing me act in such a strange way, unable to understand my overwhelming anguish, thought that I had been all at once struck with madness.

"'What is the matter?' said my wife, looking at me with awe-struck eyes.

"I could hardly speak. All I could do was to point with my finger at the sign of the Cross on the zaptieh's breast.

"'Can it be possible? Is it your brother?'

"I mournfully nodded assent. Then, after a few moments, I added that I had also found the family sign on the nape of this man's neck.

"In the meantime help was given to the highwayman, who, notwithstanding his wounds, was not quite dead, though he had fallen into a death-like swoon. My father-in-law was vainly endeavouring to bring him back to life, whilst I was lavishing my sorrow and caresses upon the man I had so longed to see.

"'Let us take him away from here,' said I, trying to lift him up; 'he shall not be touched by those dogs. Christian burial is to be given him; he must lie in consecrated ground.'

"'But,' said my father-in-law —

"'There are no "buts." They have had his body in his lifetime; they shall not have it after his death. Besides, his soul will have no rest, thinking that its earthly shell lies festering unhallowed. No; even if I am to lose my head, they shall not put a finger upon him.'

"Instead of giving me an answer, my father-in-law uttered a kind of stifled cry of astonishment. My wife, who was by his side, shrieked out, looked wildly at me, and then lifted both her hands to her head, with horror and amazement.

"What had happened?

"I looked round. The highwayman, the man who had shot my brother through the heart, was coming back to life; he was panting for breath. I looked at him. He opened his eyes. A shudder came over me. There was a strange likeness between the murderer and the murdered man. Perhaps it was because the one was dying and the other was dead.

"My father-in-law, my wife and my friends looked at the robber, then at me; awe, dread, sorrow was seen in all their eyes.

"I looked again at the highwayman. He had moved a little; hisjacerma was loosened, his shirt was torn open, his breast was all bare.

"Horror! There, under the left breast, I saw the sign of the Greek Cross.

"For a moment I remained stunned, hardly knowing whether I was in my senses or if I was mad.

"A feeling of overpowering fear came upon me; it seemed as if I were in the midst of a mighty whirlwind. For the first time in my life I beheld the sign of the holy Cross with horror and dismay.

"I lifted my hands up towards heaven in earnest supplication.

"A religious man prays, perhaps, two or three times a day; still, those are lip-prayers. Few men pray from the innermost depths of their hearts more than ten times during their life, and that, indeed, is much. At that moment my very soul seemed to be upheaved towards heaven with the words that came from my mouth. I entreated the All-wise Creator of heaven and earth that this heyduke might be no kith and kin to me, that his blood-stained hands might not be polluted with a brother's murder.

"During these few instants, my friends had gently lifted the dying man from the ground, and then they had sought for the family sign on the highwayman's neck. Like my brother's and mine, that stain was there, of a blood-red hue.

"I left the body where life was extinct to tend the one where a spark of life was yet lingering. Slowly and carefully we had the bodies transported to my father-in-law's house.

"The Turkish guards on their pursuit of the robbers did not, on their return, come back the same way. On the morrow a search was made for their officer's body and for that of the highwayman, but, not finding them, they came to the conclusion that they had been devoured by wild beasts.

"With great difficulty, and with much bribing (for, as you yourselves know, even our own priests are fond of backseesh) my dead brother was laid low in our churchyard, and Masses were said on his earthly remains. The wounded man lingered on for some days, between life and death, and during all that time I was always by his bedside. He was delirious, and by his ravings I understood that he hated the Turks as much as I did, for he was always fighting against them. We called a skilful surgeon of the Austrian army, who, though he gave us but little hope, managed to snatch him from the jaws of death.

"His convalescence was very slow, but health kept creeping back. When he was quite out of danger I questioned him about his youth, his early manhood, and the circumstances that urged him to take to the daring life of a klefte. Thereupon he related all the vicissitudes of his good and bad fortune, which I shall resume as follows:

"'I was born at Chios; therefore, though I am of Slav origin and I am called Giulianic, I am known throughout all Turkey as the Chiot. You yourself must have heard of me. I remember but little of my family. My life begins with a terrible date – that of the massacre of the Christians in my native island. Upon that day I lost my father, my mother and two of my brothers. Left alone, I was saved by a rich Greek landowner. He had friends amongst the Turks, and was, therefore, spared when almost all our fellow-countrymen were butchered. This gentleman, who had several girls and no boy, treated me like his own son; and when I reached early manhood, I was engaged to my adopted father's eldest daughter. Those were the happiest days of my life, and I should have been far happier still, had my soul not been parched by an almost irresistible desire for vengeance.

"'The day of my wedding had already been fixed, when an imprudent person happened to point out to me the man who had done us a grievous wrong – the man who had torn our baby brother from my mother's breast, the man whom I hated even more and worse than those who had killed my father. Well, as you can well understand, I slew that man. Put yourself in my place, and tell me if you would not have done the same?

"'After that deed it was useless to think of marrying. I fled from Chios; I went to Smyrna. There I put myself at the head of a gang of robbers.

"'My life from that day was that of many heydukes; that is to say, we got by sheer strength what most people get by craft – our daily bread and very few of the superfluities of life. One thing I can say: it is that neither I nor any of my men ever spilt a single drop of Christian blood. It is true that I was the bane of the Turks, and I never spared them any more than they had spared us. I was beloved by the poor, with whom I often shared my bread; treated with consideration by the rich, who preferred having me as their friend rather than as their enemy; regularly absolved by the Church, whose feasts and fasts I always kept. I was only dreaded by the Turks, who set a very great price upon my head. Thus I got to be in some years a rich and powerful man. I left Asia Minor and passed into Europe, and then, feeling that I was growing old, I was about to retire from my trade, when – when you saved my life.'

"'And now,' I asked him, 'what are you going to do?'

"'What! That, indeed, is more than I know.'

"He remained musing for some time, and then he added:

"'When a man is without any ties, when he has drunk deep the free mountain air, when the woods have been his dwelling-place and the starry heaven his roof, when he has lived the lawless life of aheyduke, can he think of cooping himself up within the narrow walls of a house and live the life of other men?'

"He stopped for a while, as if lost in his thoughts, and then he added:

"'The girl I loved is married; my brothers whom I hoped to meet again, and for whom I had bought the ground our family once owned at Chios, are for ever lost to me – doubtless, they perished upon that dreadful day – therefore, why should I live to drag on a life which henceforth will be wearisome to me?'

"'Well, then, what will you do?'

"'There is, perhaps, more work at Chios for me; I might find out the men who murdered my father – '

"'No, no; there is enough of blood upon your hands.'

"'I thought you were a Slav; as such you must know that the men of our nation never forgive.'

"'Listen; if you should happen to meet one of your brothers, if, like you, he were well off, would you not look upon his home as your own, his children – whom you might love without knowing – as your children?'

"'I should love and cherish him, indeed; I should give him the lands I bought for him at Chios. But, alas! what is the use of speaking about such a thing? It is only a dream, so listen: no man, hitherto, has loved me for my own sake, so as to risk his own life for me, as you have done, though, indeed, I have met with great kindness during the whole of my lifetime, and have had a great many friends. Well, then, will you be my brother?'

"'If I consented, would you remain with me, share my heart and my home?'

"'For ever?'

"'For our whole life.'

"'No, do not ask me that.'

"'But should you find your brother after these many years, how would you know him?'

"'We have each a Cross tattooed on our left breast, as you, perhaps, have seen – '

"'Besides this, a vanishing sign on the nape of the neck,' said I, interrupting him.

"'How do you know? Have you ever met? – or perhaps you – '

"For all answer I opened my vest and showed him the sign of the Greek Cross. His delight upon knowing me to be his brother knew no bounds.

He threw his arms round my neck, kissed me, and, for the first time in his life, he cried like a child.

"Time passed. He recovered his strength, but with it his restlessness, and his craving for revenge. We soon removed from Mostar to Ragusa, on account of his safety, and then I hoped that the change of scenery would quiet him. Alas! this larger town was but a more spacious prison. From Ragusa we went to Zara, and from there to Nona, for Ragusa itself was too near Turkey. The change quieted him for a short time; but his roving disposition soon returned, and then he talked of going to Chios. One day, seeing that he was about to put his words into execution, and feeling that I could not keep him with me any longer, I told him who the Turkish zaptieh, against whom he had fired, really was, and what blood was the last he had spilt.

"The blow was a terrible one; for days he seemed to be stunned by it. Little by little, however, it changed the current of his thoughts. He shortly afterwards gave up to the Church his ill-gotten wealth, except the Chios estate, of which he had made me a gift. Then he became a caloyer, or Greek monk, and once a year he went on a pilgrimage to Mostar, to pray upon my brother's tomb. From sinner he turned saint; but he pined like a wild bird in a cage. He lingered for some time and then he died at Mostar, where he was buried by the side of the zaptieh whom he had killed.

"We had now been to Chios to look after our vineyards and our orange groves; but I must say that this island, where I was born, is no home for me. I have lived away from it the whole of my lifetime, and the remembrances which it brings back to my mind are anything but pleasant. We were on our way to Nona, and had almost reached the goal of our voyage when that dreadful storm overtook us, and had it not been for your kindness and bravery we should all have been lost."

Evening had set in when Giulianic finished the story of his life, just when the walls of Zara were in sight; but as it was too late to land, we spent New Year's night on board the Spera in Dio.