The Pobratim Part 54

On the morrow Uros called on Mrs. Giulianic, when her husband was not at home. He apologised for his boorish behaviour, and explained matters to her.

"Your daughter is in love with Milenko, to whom you all owe your lives; he, too, has lost his heart on her, whilst I--well, it's useless speaking about myself."

"I see it all now," quoth she, "and you are too good-hearted to wish us all to be miserable on account of a stupid promise. Well, on the whole, I think you were right."

"Then you forgive me for what I did and what I said?"

"Of course I do, now that I understand it all."

Before the caique sailed off, Uros was fully forgiven, and Giulianic even promised to write to his friend and explain matters to him.

CHAPTER XIII

STARIGRAD

The caique reached Trieste in time to meet the _Spera in Dio_, which, having discharged her goods, had taken a cargo of timber for Lissa.

At Trieste, the _pobratim_ bade good-bye to Captain Panajotti; and he, having found there two of his countrymen, was able to set sail for the Levant. From Lissa the _Spera in Dio_ returned to Trieste, and there her cargo of sardines was disposed of to great advantage.

The young men had been sailing now six months with the captain, and he, seeing that they were not only good pilots, clever sailors, reliable young men, but sharp in business to boot, agreed to let them have the whole management of the s.h.i.+p, for he was obliged to go to Fiume, and take charge of another brig of his, that had lost her captain. Moreover, being well off, and having re-married, he was now going to take his young wife on a cruise with him.

"And who was the captain of your brig in Fiume?"

"One of my late wife's brothers, and as he seems to have disapproved of my second marriage, he has discarded my s.h.i.+p."

"And is he married?"

"Of course, he is; did you ever know any unmarried captain? Land rats always seem to look upon marriage as a halter, whilst we sailors get spliced as young as possible. Perhaps it's because we are so little with our better halves that we are happy in married life."

"And when you give up the sea will you settle down in Fiume?"

"I suppose so, though Fiume is not my birth-place."

"Isn't it? Where were you born, then?"

"Where the dog-king was born!"

"And where was the dog-king born? For, never having heard of him before, I am now quite as wise as I was," said Uros.

"Well, they say that Atilla, who was a very great king, was born at Starigrad, the old castle, which, as you know, is not very far from Nona. Starigrad is said to have been built on the ruins of a very old city, which was once called Orsopola, but which now hardly deserves the name of a town. The village where I was born goes by the name of Torre-Vezza, but we in Slav know it as Kulina-pa.s.s-glav."

"What a peculiar name, The Tower of the Dog's Head," added Milenko.

"Yes, it is also called The Tower of the Dog-King Kulina-pa.s.s-kraljev."

"And why?" asked Uros.

"Because it was the tower where Atilla was born, and as the king happened to have a dog's ears, the place was called after him The Tower of the Dog-King."

"How very strange that a king should have a dog's ears."

"Not so very strange either. Once, in olden times, a king actually had a.s.s's ears; but that was long before const.i.tutional monarchy: I doubt whether people would stand such things nowadays. Some historians say that he had a dog's head, but that, I daresay, is an exaggeration; and perhaps, after all, he had only big hairy ears, something like those of a poodle. Anyhow, if the legend is to be believed, it does not seem wonderful that Atilla was somewhat of a mongrel and doggish in his behaviour."

"Let's hear the legend," said Uros.

Thereupon, the captain and his two mates, lying flat on their stomachs, propped themselves up on their elbows, and began to puff at their cigarettes. Then the captain narrated as follows:

About four hundred years after the birth of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, there lived in Hungary a King who was exceedingly handsome. The Hungarians are, as you must know, a very fine race; but this monarch was so remarkably good-looking, that no woman ever cast her eyes upon him without falling in love with him at once. This King had a daughter who was as beautiful a girl as he was handsome a man, and all the kings and princes were anxious to marry her. She had a great choice of suitors, for they flocked to Hungary from the four quarters of the globe. She, however, discarded them all, for she could not find the man of her choice amongst them. Some were too fair, others a shade too dark; the one was too short, the other was tall and lanky. In fact, one batch of kings went off and another came, but with no better success; fair-bearded and blue-eyed emperors were the same to her as negro potentates, she hardly looked upon either.

The King at first was vexed to find his daughter so hard to please, then he grew angry at seeing her throw away so many good chances, and at last he decided that she was to marry the very first man that should come to ask for her hand, fair or dark, yellow or copper-coloured.

The suitor who happened to present himself was a powerful chief of some nomadic tribe. He was not exactly a handsome man, for he was shock-headed, short and squat, with st.u.r.dy, muscular limbs, big, broad hands and square feet. As for his face, it was quite flat, with a pug nose, thick lips and sharp teeth. As for his ears, they were canine in their shape, large and hairy.

Though he was not exactly a monster, still the girl refused him, horrified. The man, gloating upon her, said, with a leer, that a time might come when she would lick her chops to have him. Nay, he grinned and showed his dog-like teeth as he uttered this very low expression, rendering it ever so much the more obnoxious by emitting a low canine laugh, something between a whine and a merry bark. The poor Princess shuddered with horror and said she would as lief be wedded to one of her father's curs.

The father now got into a towering pa.s.sion and asked the Princess why she would not marry, and the damsel, melting into tears, and almost fainting with grief and shame, confessed that she was in love with him--her own father.

Fancy the King's dismay!

He had been bored the whole of his life by all the women, not only of his Court, but of his whole kingdom, who were madly in love with him.

Wherever he went there was always a crowd of young girls and old dames, married women and widows, gazing at him as if he had been the moon; grey eyes and green eyes, black eyes and blue eyes, were always staring, ogling or leering at him; and, amidst deep-drawn sighs, he always heard the same words: "Ah! how handsome he is!" His fatal beauty made more ravages amongst the fair s.e.x even than the plague or the small-pox; the cemeteries and lunatic asylums were peopled with his victims. His dreams were haunted by the sighs and cries of these love-sick females. At last he had decided to live in a remote castle, in the midst of a forest, where he would see and be seen by as few women as possible; but even here he could not find rest, his own daughter had not escaped the infection. That was too much for the poor King. He at once banished the Princess, not only from his sight--from his castle--but even from his kingdom. He wished thereby to strike the rest of womankind with terror.

The poor girl, like Cain, wandered alone upon the surface of the earth; bearing her father's curse, she was shunned by everyone who met her; for the Hungarians have ever been loyal to their kings.

She was, however, not quite alone; for as she left the royal palace she was met on her way by an ugly-looking cur, with a s.h.a.ggy head, a short and squat body, st.u.r.dy muscular legs, big paws, a pug nose, sharp white teeth, and huge flapping ears. He was not exactly a fine dog, but he seemed good-natured enough; and as he followed her steps, he looked at her piteously with his little eyes.

She walked about for three days; then, sick at heart, weary and faint, she sank down, ready to die. She was on a lonely highway, with moors all covered with heather on either side; so that she could see nothing but the limitless plain stretching far away in the distance as far as the eye could reach. In that immense waste, with the bright blue sky overhead, and the brown-reddish heath all around, where not a tree, not a shrub, not a rock was to be seen, she walked on and on; but she always seemed to be in the very centre of an unending circle.

Then a feeling of terror came over her; the utter loneliness in which she found herself overpowered her. And now the mongrel cur, which had remained behind, came running after her, the poor beast, which at first she had hardly noticed, comforted her; he was now far more than a companion or a protector, he was her only friend.

She sank down by the wayside, to pat the faithful dog and to rest a while; but when she tried to rise, her legs were so stiff that they refused to carry her. However, the sun, that never tarries, went on and left her far behind. She saw his fiery disc sink like a glowing ball far behind the verge of the moor; then darkness, little by little, spread itself over the earth. Night being more oppressive than daylight, the tears began to trickle down her cheeks; then she lay down on the gra.s.s, and began to sob bitterly and to bewail and moan over her ill-timed fate. She was again comforted; for the ugly cur came to sniff at her, to rub his nose against her cheeks, and lick her hands, as if to soothe and a.s.suage her sorrow.

Tired as she was her heavy eyelids drooped, shut themselves, and soon she sank into a deep sleep.

That night she had a most wonderful vision. Soon she felt her body beginning to get drowsy and the pain in her weary head to pa.s.s away; then consciousness gradually vanished. Then it seemed that she saw two genii of gigantic stature appear in front of her; the mightiest of the two bent down, caught her up as if she had been a tiny baby only a few months old, clasped her to his breast, then spread out his huge bat-like wings and flew away with her up into the air. It was pleasant to nestle in his brawny arms and feel the wind rush around her. He carried her with the rapidity of the lightning across the endless plains of Hungary, over the blue waters of the Danube, over lakes and snow-capped chains of mountains, and wide gaping chasms which looked like the mouths of h.e.l.l. The genius at last alighted on the summit of a very high peak, and from there he slid down, making thus a deep glen that went to the sea-sh.o.r.e. The other genius took up the dog in his arms, transported him likewise through the air, and perched himself on the top of another neighbouring peak. The mountain-tops on which they alighted were the Ruino and Sveti Berdo of the Vellibic chain. Once on their feet again the two Afrites laid down their burdens, and built--till early morning--a huge castle of ma.s.sive stone, not far from the sea. Their task done, they placed the Princess in a beautiful bed, all inlaid with silver, ivory and mother-of-pearl; they whispered in her ear that henceforth, and for the remainder of her life, she would have to keep away from the sight of men, for her beauty might have been as fatal as her father's had been. Then they rose up in the air, vanished, or rather, melted away, like the morning mist.

You can fancy the Princess's surprise the next morning when--on awaking--she found herself stretched on a soft couch, between fine lawn sheets, in a lofty chamber, finer by far even than the one she had had in her father's palace. She rubbed her eyes, thinking that she was dreaming, and then lay for a few moments, half asleep and half awake, hardly daring to move lest she might return, but too soon, to the bitter misery of life. All at once, as she lay in this pleasant sluggish state, she felt something moist and cold against her cheek. She shuddered, awoke quite, turned round and found herself in still closer contact with the cur's pug nose.

The Princess drew back astonished, unable to understand whether she was awake or asleep, and, as her eyes fell on the cur, she was surprised to see a kind of broad and merry grin on the dog's face, for the mongrel evidently seemed to be enjoying her surprise.

The young girl continued to look round, bewildered, for, instead of being on the dusty roadside, where she had dropped down out of sheer weariness, she was lying on a comfortable bed, in a splendid room.

She stared at the costly tapestries which covered the walls, at the beautiful inlaid furniture, at the damask curtains all wrought in gold, at the crystal chandelier hanging down from the ceiling; and as she gazed at all these, and many other things, the cur, with his big hairy front paws on the edge of the couch, was standing on his hind legs, looking at the beautiful young girl.

The poor girl blushed to see the cur leering at her so doggedly. She rose quickly, put on the beautiful dresses that were lying on a chair ready for her, and went about the house.

What she had taken for a dream, or a vision, was, in fact, nothing but plain reality. She had, during the night, been carried from the plains of Hungary down to the sh.o.r.es of the Adriatic, and shut up in a fairy castle, alone with the faithful dog. From her windows she could see the mountains on which the two Afrites had alighted, and on the other side the sun-lit, translucent waters of the deep blue sea.