The Land of the Black Mountain Part 19

On the following Sunday during the Ma.s.s, as he turned to his congregation to give the Benediction, to his horror he saw the man with the s.h.i.+rt drawn over all his ragged clothes, in a front row. It was with the greatest difficulty, he concluded, that he could restrain a smile.

We were afforded a novel and striking scene before we left Zatrijebac in the form of an open-air Ma.s.s on Sunday.

The church being in the course of rebuilding, a rough altar had been hastily constructed, or rather knocked up--for it was of most crude workmans.h.i.+p--of wood planks on a small gra.s.s plot.

From nine a.m. onwards the people began to a.s.semble, coming from all parts of the large and straggling district, and sat about in groups gravely talking. Towards eleven o'clock a large number of peasants had arrived, and the altar was covered with not a fair white cloth as usual, but with something suspiciously resembling a long and not overclean towel. A tiny crucifix was placed upon it, and the young priest robed himself there in sight of the whole congregation.

A group of elder men knelt or squatted on the small open s.p.a.ce immediately in front of the High Altar, but the majority of wors.h.i.+ppers ranged themselves under the shade of some small trees and on the low surrounding walls.

These same trees bear weekly a strange and incongruous fruit, for they are used as pegs whereon the Albanians hang their rifles during service. All round, the walls are stacked with rifles, for, like the Puritans of old, they come to church fully armed with rifle, handjar, and revolver, and round their waists, the inevitable bandolier of cartridges.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AFTER Ma.s.s AT ZATRIJEBAC]

On approaching the altar every man pushed back the cloth which is swathed round his half-shaven head, and kneeling, piously crossed himself. The older men displayed even more reverence, and kissed the earth. The younger men were much the same as their cultured and civilised brothers, lounging through the service, half seated on a wall, and barely crossing themselves.

But the general effect was one of great reverence and striking in the extreme. We watched this strange congregation with great interest, and during the most sacred part of the service, when all, even the blase young men, prostrated themselves, the effect was unique.

Picture a cut-throat, shave half his head, leaving a tuft of hair on the back by which he kindly a.s.sists his victor to decapitate him, expecting a like consideration in return, long drooping moustachios, clad in Turkish clothes, a belt full of cartridges, with revolver and murderous-looking yataghan artistically displayed--of such was this congregation. Men who half-an-hour afterwards would shoot an enemy in the course of a vendetta, or otherwise, without any thought of remorse. Yes, and coolly cut off his head and bring it home to his admiring wife and daughters, now so discreetly and respectfully kneeling behind them. This is not an over-drawn picture. It happens often.

Of such consisted the congregation under the green trees, blue sky, brilliant suns.h.i.+ne, in that perfect landscape this Sunday morning. And of such is peopled a part of the vast country of Albania. A people who hold human life as nothing--a reckless and brave nation of devout Roman Catholics.

At the conclusion of the service we came in for a lot of inspection, and going in to dine soon afterwards we chanced to look out of the window overlooking the scene of the morning Ma.s.s. Still a great crowd hung about, and on the late High Altar sat men smoking cigarettes.

After dinner we bade farewell to our young host, amidst honest regrets on both sides. The Franciscan had given us a new insight into the mysteries of life.

CHAPTER XVII

A modern hero, and our sojourn under his roof--Keco's story--The laws of Vendetta and their incongruity--We return to Podgorica--The Montenegrin telephone--An elopement causes excitement--The Sultan's birthday--The reverse of the picture--A legal anomaly.

"At Fundina," said Dr. S., "you will meet one of the modern heroes of Montenegro. A man named Keco, whose fame has reached to the uttermost ends of the land."

We had bidden farewell to our host and were riding past the last houses and huts of the clan of Zatrijebac on our way to Fundina. The path tended downwards, and shortly the great plain of the Zeta burst suddenly into view as we rounded a corner of the mountains. Beyond lay the Lake of Scutari with its background of mountains.

It was early in the evening when we reined in our horses before a modest stone house and dismounted. It was Fundina, a straggling village built on the sloping sides of a mountain from which it takes its name.

Voivoda Marko, the hero of Medun, defeated the Turks on these slopes in the first engagement of the last war, successfully inaugurating the campaigning which secured to Montenegro all the territory through which we had been riding for so many weeks, including the towns of Podgorica and Nikic, and the great valley now stretched at our feet.

Podgorica lies like an oasis of green trees on the rolling, but treeless, plain.

The Albanian border is but a rifle-shot away, and the village of Dino and the fortress of Tusi are plainly to be seen.

We decided to spend the night here and hear Keco's story, though Podgorica was only three hours' distance. It would be a fitting finish to our mountain tour to sleep on the battlefield of Fundina, and in the house of a modern hero.

"I warn you," remarked the doctor, "that Keco much belies his deeds by his appearance."

Keco was not in his house when we arrived, and we had our ceremonial and inevitable black coffee brought to us on a small natural platform of rock overlooking the magnificent valley.

Shortly afterwards a small and insignificant man approached us, with haggard looks and grey hair. He greeted the doctor effusively.

"This is Keco," said Dr. S.

As he took the tobacco tin which was proffered him his hands trembled so excessively that the rolling of a cigarette was a work of art.

"His nerves are gone," explained the doctor. "He lives in hourly danger of his life."

Keco soon left us to prepare our meal and quarters for the night, and it was not till after supper, when we were seated round the fire in his little house and smoking, that he would consent to tell his story.

Even then he spoke at first reluctantly, but soon warmed to his subject. His wife was always present and looked anxious. Several men were in the room.

"Though my hands tremble and my hair is growing white," he began, "yet I do not fear death. We must all die, and I know that my fate must speedily overtake me. This house I have built for my wife, and stocked with what money I had, to provide for her. They shall not kill me easily. Twice have they tried. The first time I was in the fields when men fired at me from a long distance. I took my rifle and made a detour, and, as my enemies recrossed the border, I was there waiting for them. But I did not hit one. Another time seven men hid themselves only thirty yards away from my house, in the evening, but they dared not shoot then, for my wife was by my side."

"You know," explained the doctor, "the life of a woman is sacred; should a woman by the greatest accident shoot a man, the vendetta falls on her husband--she may not be touched; or, should a woman be killed in a vendetta, even by the merest accident, the shame would be unspeakable. The murderers and their families, or even their clan, would be blotted out, for in such revenge all would join. Keco's wife never leaves his side after dusk, and, you see, she has saved his life once already within his knowledge; who knows how often unawares?"

"Tell us the origin of thy blood-guiltiness," said we. Dr. S. had told us the story, but we wished to hear it from his lips.

"I had a cow which was my pride," went on Keco. "She yielded more milk than any other cow and of a far better quality. Men praised the milk and the cheese when I took it to the market in Podgorica for sale, and none more than Achmet, a Turk from Dino.

"One morning I went to milk my cow, and could find her nowhere. My most treasured possession was gone. I searched for her all that day and the next on the mountain sides, but in vain. On the next market day as I wandered gloomily across the market-place of Podgorica, Achmet, the Turk, accosted me.

"'Where is thy milk?' he asked, 'which is so wonderful, and where are thy marvellous cheeses?'

"I replied that I knew not, and would have pa.s.sed on.

"'Make thy mind easy,' continued Achmet, an evil smile spreading over his face, 'for I have thy cow.'

"'Ah! she has strayed across the border,' I cried. 'Thank G.o.d she is found.'

"'She strayed across the border,' said Achmet, 'but under my guidance.

Thou hast not lied. Her milk is indeed of the good quality that thou hast boasted. For a Christian dog like thee she is far too good.'

"To this hour I wonder that I did not strike him dead. My rage rendered me powerless to move or see. It was as if a black cloud descended over my eyes. When I recovered, Achmet was gone.

"For many weeks I went to the Law Court whenever I visited the market, demanding the rest.i.tution of my cow by legal means, and each time was I put off by answers and promises. And Achmet was always on the market-place taunting me with tales of the cow and her calf. For she had calved. But the law is strict, and I never dared shoot him whilst in the town, and this the coward knew.

"When I saw that I should get no help from the law, I took two men from this village. They are here in this room," he said, pointing to two men seated near us. "And one morning I went across to Dino. I did not go at night, like the thief, but when the sun was highest, and when all could see me. I left my comrades outside Achmet's house, and went in alone. There I found my cow and her calf, but only the women were present. So I drove the cow and the calf out of the door towards my comrades. Then, lest any should think that I was afraid, I fired my rifle into the air. Very soon the men came running from the fields, and amongst them Achmet and his son. When they saw me and my cow, they came towards me firing, but being unsteady from running, the bullets flew wide. Then I took careful aim and shot Achmet dead, and then his son. We then ran quickly, and though men pursued us, they were afraid to come too near lest I should shoot them likewise, and so we came back to Fundina in safety. Since then the men of Dino wait for me, and they will kill me soon, for the insult is very great that I have put upon them, and the fame of my deed has travelled into all lands."

As he said this his eyes lit with fire, and the spirit of heroism shone out in the seemingly timid-looking man.

"Must thou stay here, in Fundina?" I asked, "where thy enemies are so near. Why not go to Cetinje or Nikic?"

"Men know me for a hero," he answered proudly. "What would they say if I ran away and sought safety elsewhere? I should be a double coward, for I should leave my brothers to inherit my fate. No, I shall wait here till they come, and they shall not find me unprepared or sleeping. See, every night I make my bed in a different place, sometimes in one room of the house, sometimes in the bushes outside.

They never know where I shall sleep, for these dogs love to kill their enemy in the night."

Silence fell upon us as Keco finished. The wood fire crackled and flickered, lighting up fitfully the serious faces of the men sitting round.

Half guessing our thoughts, Keco said--

"To-night no attack will be made. We shall keep guard outside."