CHAPTER XII
LAW AND ORDER
At last the whirligig seemed to have taken a turn in my favour, therevolutions of the wheel at last to have brought my fortune uppermost.For the sight of Francesca in Panayiota's arms came pat inconfirmation of the story wrung from Demetri by the power of his oath,and his 'Behold!' was not needed to ensure acceptance for histestimony. From women rose compassionate murmurs, from men angrygrowlings which expressed, while they strove to hide, the shamefacedemotions that the helpless woman's narrow escape created. Hersalvation must bring mine with it; for it was the ruin of her husbandand my enemy.
Kortes and another dragged Constantine Stefanopoulos forward till hestood within two or three yards of his wife. None interposed on hisbehalf or resented the rough pressure of Kortes's compelling hand. Andeven as he was set there, opposite the women, they, roused by thesubdued stir of the excited throng, awoke. First into one another'seyes, then round upon us, came their startled glances; then Francescaleapt with a cry to her feet, ran to me, and threw herself on herknees before me, crying, 'You'll save me, my lord, you'll save me?'Demetri hung his head in sullen half-contrition mingled with anunmistakable satisfaction in his religious piety; Constantine bit andlicked his thin lips, his fists tight clenched, his eyes dartingfurtively about in search of friends or in terror of avengers. AndPhroso said in her soft clear tones:
'There is no more need of fear, for the truth is known.'
Her eyes, though they would not meet mine, rested long in tendersympathy on the woman who still knelt at my feet. Here indeed sheremained till Phroso came forward and raised her, while the old priestlifted his voice in brief thanks to heaven for the revelation wroughtunder the sanction of the Holy Saint. For myself, I gave a long sighof relief; the strain had been on me now for many hours, and it tiresa man to be knocking all day long at the door of death. Yet almost inthe instant that the concern for my own life left me (that is a thingterribly apt to fill a man's mind) my thoughts turned to othertroubles: to my friends, who were--I knew not where; to Phroso, whohad said--I scarcely knew what.
Suddenly, striking firm and loud across the murmurs and the threatsthat echoed round the ring in half-hushed voices, came Kortes's tones.
'And this man? What of him?' he asked, his hand on Constantine'sshaking shoulder. 'For he has done all that the stranger declared ofhim: he has deceived our Lady Euphrosyne, he has sought to kill thislady here, we have it from his own mouth that he slew the old lord,though he knew well that the old lord had yielded.'
Constantine's wife turned swiftly to the speaker.
'Did he kill the old lord?' she asked. 'He told me that it was Spirowho struck him in the heat of the brawl.'
'Ay, Spiro or Vlacho, or whom you will,' said Kortes with a shrug.'There was no poverty of lies in his mouth.'
But the old feeling was not dead, and one or two again murmured:
'The old lord sold the island.'
'Did he die for that?' cried Francesca scornfully; 'or was it not intruth I who brought him to death?'
There was a movement of surprised interest, and all bent their eyes onher.
'Yes,' she went on, 'I think I doomed him to that death when I wentand told him my story, seeking his protection. Constantine found mewith him, and heard him greet me as his nephew's wife, on theafternoon of the day that the deed was done. Can this man here denyit? Can he deny that the old lord was awaiting the return of the LadyEuphrosyne to tell her of the thing, when his mouth was shut for everby the stroke?'
This disclosure, showing a new and vile motive for what Constantinehad tried to play off as a pardonable excess of patriotism, robbed himof his last defenders. He seemed to recognise his plight; his eyesceased to canvass possible favour, and dropped to the ground in dulldespair. There was not a man now to raise a voice or a hand for him;their anger at having been made his dupes and his tools sharpened theedge of their hatred. To me his wife's words caused no wonder, for Ihad from the first believed that some secret motive had nervedConstantine's arm, and that he had taken advantage of the islanders'mad folly for his own purposes. What that motive was stood out nowclear and obvious. It explained his act, and abundantly justified thedistrust and fear of him which I had perceived in his wife's mind whenfirst I talked with her on the hill. But she, having launched herfatal bolt, turned her eyes away again, and laying her hand inPhroso's stood silent.
Kortes, appearing to take the lead now by general consent--for Phrosomade no sign--looked round on his fellow-countrymen, seeking to gathertheir decision from their faces. He found the guidance and agreementthat he sought.
'We may not put any man to death on St Tryphon's day,' said he.
The sentence was easy to read, for all its indirectness. The islandersunderstood it, and approved in a deep stern murmur; the women followedit, and their faces grew pale and solemn. The criminal missed nothingof its implied doom and tottered under the strong hands that nowrather supported than imprisoned him. 'Not on this day, but to-morrowat break of day.' The voice of the people had spoken by the mouth ofKortes, and none pleaded for mercy or delay.
'I will take him to the guardhouse and keep him,' said Kortes; and theold priest murmured low, 'God have mercy on him!' Then, with a swiftdart, Phroso sprang towards Kortes; her hands were clasped, her eyesprayed him to seek some ground of mercy, some pretext for a lightersentence. She said not a word, but everyone of us read her eloquentprayer. Kortes looked round again; the faces about him were touchedwith a tenderness that they had not worn before; but the tendernesswas for the advocate, no part of it reached the criminal. Kortes shookhis head gravely. Phroso turned to the woman who had comforted herbefore, and hid her face. Constantine, seeing the last hope gone,swayed and fell into the arms of the man who, with Kortes, held him,uttering a long low moan of fear and despair, terrible to listen to,even from lips guilty as his. Thus was Constantine Stefanopoulos triedfor his life in the yard of Vlacho's inn in Neopalia. The trial ended,he was carried out into the street on his way to the prison, and we,one and all, in dead silence, followed. The yard was emptied, and thenarrow street choked with the crowd which attended Kortes and hisprisoner till the doors of the guardhouse closed on them.
Then, for the first time that day, Phroso's eyes sought mine in arapid glance, in which I read joy for my safety; but the glance fellas I answered it, and she turned away in confusion. Her avowal,forgotten for an instant in gladness, recurred to her mind and dyedher cheeks red. Averting my eyes from her, I looked down the slope ofthe street towards the sea. The thought of her and of nothing else wasin my mind.
Ah, my island! My sweet capricious island!
A sudden uncontrollable exclamation burst from my lips and, raising myhand, I pointed to the harbour and the blue water beyond. Every headfollowed the direction of my outstretched finger; every pair of eyeswas focussed on the object that held mine. A short breathlesssilence--a momentary wonder--then, shrill or deep, low in fear or loudin excitement, broke forth the cry:
'The Governor! The Governor!'
For a gunboat was steaming slowly into the harbour of Neopalia, andthe Turkish flag flew over her.
The sight wrought transformation. In a moment, as it seemed to me, thethrong round me melted away. The street grew desolate, the houses oneither side swallowed their eager occupants; Kortes alone, with hisprisoner, knew nothing of the fresh event, only Phroso and Francescastood their ground. Demetri was slinking hastily away. The old priestwas making for his home. The shutters of dead Vlacho's inn came down,and girls bustled to and fro, preparing food. I stood unwatched,unheeded, apparently forgotten; festival, tumult, trial, condemnationseemed passed like visions; the flag that flew from the gunboatbrought back modern days, the prose of life, and ended the wildpoetic drama that we had played and a second One-eyed Alexander mightworthily have sung. How had the Governor come before his time, andwhy?
'Denny!' I cried aloud in inspiration and hope, and I ran as thoughthe foul fiends whom Demetri had heard were behind me. Down the steepstr
eet and on to the jetty I ran. As I arrived there the gunboat alsoreached it, and, a moment later, Denny was shaking my hand till itfelt like falling off, while from the deck of the boat Hogvardt andWatkins were waving wild congratulations.
Denny had jumped straight from deck to jetty; but now a gangway wasthrust out, and I passed with him on to the deck, and presentedmyself, with a low bow, to a gentleman who stood there. He was a tallfull-bodied man, apparently somewhat under fifty years old; his facewas heavy and broad, in complexion dark and sallow; he wore a shortblack beard; his lips were full, his eyes acute and small. I did notlike the look of him much; but he meant law and order and civilisationand an end to the wild ways of Neopalia. For this, as Denny whisperedto me, was no less a man than the Governor himself, Mouraki Pasha. Ibowed again yet lower; for I stood before a man of whom report hadmuch to tell--something good, much bad, all interesting.
He spoke to me in low, slow, suave tones, employing the Greeklanguage, which he spoke fluently, although as a foreigner. ForMouraki was by birth an Armenian.
'You must have much to tell me, Lord Wheatley,' he said with a smile.'But first I must assure you with what pleasure I find you alive andunhurt. Be confident that you shall not want redress for the wrongswhich these turbulent rascals have inflicted on you. I know these menof Neopalia: they are hard men; but they also know me, and that I, inmy turn, can be a hard man if need be.' His looks did not belie hiswords, as his sharp eye travelled with an ominous glance over thelittle town by the harbour. 'But you will wish to speak with yourfriends first,' he went on courteously. 'May I ask your attention inhalf-an-hour's time from now?'
I bowed obedience. The great man turned away, and Denny caught me bythe arm, crying, 'Now, old man, tell us all about it.'
'Wait a bit,' said I rather indignantly. 'Just you tell me all aboutit.'
But Denny was firmer than I, and my adventures came before his. I toldthem all faithfully, save one incident; it may perhaps be guessedwhich. Denny and the other two listened with frequent exclamations ofsurprise, and danced with exultation at the final worsting ofConstantine Stefanopoulos.
'It's all right,' said Denny reassuringly. 'Old Mouraki will hang himjust the same.'
'Now it's your turn,' said I.
'Oh, our story's nothing. We just got through that old drain, and cameout by the sea, and all the fishermen had gone off to thefishing-grounds, except one old chap they left behind to look aftertheir victuals. Well, we didn't know how to get back to you, and theold chap told us that the whole place was alive with armed ruffians,so--'
'Just tell the story properly, will you?' said I sternly.
At last, by pressing and much questioning, I got the story from them,and here it is; for it was by no means so ordinary a matter as Denny'smodesty would have had me think. When the consternation caused by thecutting of our rope had passed away, a hurried council decided them topress on with all speed, and they took their way along a narrow, dampand slippery ledge of rock which encircled the basin. So perilous didthe track seem that Hogvardt insisted on their being roped as thoughfor a mountaineering ascent, and thus they continued the journey. Thefirst opening from the basin they found without much difficulty. Nowthe rope proved useful, for Denny, passing through first, fellheadlong into space and most certainly would have perished but for thesupport his companions gave him. The track turned at right angles tothe left, and Denny had walked straight over the edge of the rock.Sobered by this accident and awake to their peril (it must beremembered that they had no lantern), they groped their way slowly andcautiously, up and down, in and out. Hours passed. Watkins, lessaccustomed than the others to a physical strain, could hardly lift hisfeet. All this while the dim glimmer which Denny had seen retreatedbefore them, appearing to grow no nearer for all their efforts. Theywalked, as they found afterwards--or walked, crawled, scrambled andjumped--for eleven hours, their haste and anxiety allowed no pause forrest. Then they seemed to see the end, for the winding tortuous trackappeared at last to make up its mind. It took a straight downwardline, and Denny's hard-learned caution vanishing, he started along itat a trot and with a hearty hurrah. He tempted fate. The slope becamesuddenly a drop. This time all three fell with a splash and a thudinto a deep pool, one on the top of the other. Here they scrambled forsome minutes, Watkins coming very near to finding an end of thetroubles of his eventful service. But Denny and Hogvardt managed toget him out. The path began again. Content with its last freak, itpursued now a business-like way, the glimmer grew to a gleam, the gleamspread into a glad blaze. 'The sea, the sea!' cried Denny. A lastspurt landed them in a cave that bordered on the blue waters. Whatthey did on that I could by no means persuade them to tell; but had Ibeen there I should have thanked God and shaken hands; and thus, Idare say, did they. And besides that, they lay there, dog-tired andbeaten, for an hour or more, in one of those despondent fits thatassail even brave men, making sure that I was dead or taken, and thattheir own chances of escape were small, and, since I was dead ortaken, hardly worth the seeking.
They were roused by an old man, who suddenly entered the cave, bearinga bundle of sticks in his arms. At sight of them he dropped his loadand turned to fly; but they were on him in an instant, seizing him andcrying to know who he was. He had as many questions for them; and whenhe learned who they were and how they had come, he raised his hands inwonder, and told Hogvardt, who alone could make him understand, thattheir fears were well grounded. He had met a Neopalian but an hoursince, and the talk in all the island was of how the stranger hadkilled Vlacho and been taken by Kortes, and would die on the nextday; for this was the early morning of the feast-day. Denny was for adash; but a dash meant certain death. Watkins was ready for theventure, though the poor fellow could hardly crawl. Hogvardt held firmto the chance that more cautious measures gave. The old man's comradeswere away at their fishing-grounds, ten miles out at sea; but he had aboat down on the beach. Thither they went, and set out under thefisherman's guidance, pulling in desperate perseverance, with numbweary limbs, under the increasing heat of the sun. But their willsasked too much of their bodies. Watkins dropped his oar with a groan;Denny's moved weakly and uselessly through the water that hardlystirred under its blade; Hogvardt at last flung himself into the sternwith one groan of despair. The old fisherman cast resigned eyes up toheaven, and the boat tossed motionlessly on the water. Thus they laywhile I fought my duel with Constantine Stefanopoulos on the otherside of Neopalia.
Then, while they were still four miles from the fishing-fleet, wherelay their only known chance of succour for me or for themselves, therecame suddenly to their incredulous eyes a shape on the sea and acolumn of smoke. Denny's spring forward went near to capsizing theboat. Oars were seized again, weariness fled before hope, the gunboatcame in view, growing clear and definite. She moved quickly towardsthem, they slowly, yet eagerly, to her; the interval grew less andless. They shouted before they could be heard, and shouted still inneedless caution long after they had been heard. A boat put out tothem: they were taken on board, their story heard with shrugs ofwonder. Mouraki could not be seen. 'I'll see him!' cried Denny, andHogvardt plied the recalcitrant officer with smooth entreaties. Thelife of a man was at stake! But he could not be seen. The life of anEnglishman! His Excellency slept through the heat of the day. The lifeof an English lord! His Excellency would be angry, but--! The contentsof Denny's pocket, wild boasts of my power and position (I was afavourite at Court, and so forth), at last clinched the matter. HisExcellency should be roused; heaven knew what he would say, but heshould be roused. He went to Neopalia next week; now he was sailingpast it, to inspect another island; perhaps he would alter the orderof his voyage. He was fond of Englishmen. It was a great lord, was itnot? So, at last, when Hogvardt was at his tongue's end, and Dennyalmost mad with rage, Mouraki was roused. He heard their story, andpondered on it, with leisurely strokings of his beard and keen longglances of his sharp eyes. At last came the word, 'To the islandthen!' and a cheer from the three, which Mouraki suffered with patientuplift
ed brows. Thus came Mouraki to Neopalia; thus came, as I hoped,an end to our troubles.
More than the half-hour which the Governor had given me passed swiftlyin the narrative; then came Mouraki's summons and my story to him,heard with courteous impassivity, received at its end with plentifulassurances of redress for me and punishment for the islanders.
'The island shall be restored to you,' said he. 'You shall have everycompensation, Lord Wheatley. These Neopalians shall learn theirlesson.'
'I want nothing but justice on Constantine,' said I. 'The island Ihave given back.'
'That goes for nothing,' said he. 'It was under compulsion: we shallnot acknowledge it. The island is certainly yours. Your title has beenrecognised: you could not transfer it without the consent of myGovernment.'
I did not pursue the argument. If Mouraki chose to hand the islandback to me, I supposed that I could, after such more or less tediousforms as were necessary, restore it to Phroso. For the present thematter was of small moment; for Mouraki was there with his men, andthe power of the Lord--or Lady--of Neopalia in abeyance. The islandwas at the feet of the Governor.
Indeed such was its attitude, and great was the change in theislanders when, in the cool of the evening, I walked up the street byMouraki's side escorted by soldiers and protected by the great gun ofthe gunboat commanding the town. There were many women to watch us,few men, and these unarmed, with downcast eyes and studious meeknessof bearing. Mouraki seemed to detect my surprise.
'They made a disturbance here three years ago,' said he, 'and I came.They have not forgotten.'
'What did you do to them?' I made bold to ask.
'What was necessary,' he said; and--'They are not Armenians,' addedthe Armenian Governor with a smile which meant much; among otherthings, as I took it, that no tiresome English demanded fair trial forriotous Neopalians.
'And Constantine?' said I. I hope that I was not too vindictive.
'It is the feast of St Tryphon,' said his Excellency, with anothersmile.
We were passing the guardhouse now. An officer and five men fell outfrom the ranks of our escort and took their stand by its doors. Wepassed on, leaving Constantine in this safe keeping; and Mouraki,turning to me, said, 'I must ask you for hospitality. As Lord of theisland, you enjoy the right of entertaining me.'
I bowed. We turned into the road that led to the old grey house; whenwe were a couple of hundred yards from it, I saw Phroso coming out ofthe door. She walked rapidly towards us, and paused a few paces fromthe Governor, making a deep obeisance to him and bidding him welcometo her poor house in stately phrases of deference and loyalty. Mourakiwas silent, surveying her with a slight smile. She grew confused underhis wordless smiling; her greetings died away. At last he spoke, inslow deliberate tones:
'Is this the lady,' said he, 'who raises a tumult and resists mymaster's will, and seeks to kill a lord who comes peaceably and bylawful right to take what is his?'
I believe I made a motion as though to spring forward. Mouraki'sexpressive face displayed a marvelling question; did I mean suchinsolence as lay in interrupting him? I fell back; a publicremonstrance could earn only a public rebuff.
'Strange are the ways of Neopalia,' said he, his gaze again onPhroso.
'I am at your mercy, my lord,' she murmured.
'And what is this talk of your house? What house have you? I see herethe house of this English lord, where he will receive me courteously.Where is your house?'
'The house belongs to whom you will, my lord,' she said. 'Yet I havedared to busy myself in making it ready for you.'
By this time I was nearly at boiling point, but still I controlledmyself. I rejoiced that Denny was not there, he and the others havingresumed possession of the yacht, and arranged to sleep there, in orderto leave more room for Mouraki's accommodation. Phroso stood inpatient submission; Mouraki's eyes travelled over her from head tofoot.
'The other woman?' he asked abruptly. 'Your cousin's wife--where isshe?'
'She is at the cottage on the hill, my lord, with a woman to attend onher.'
After another pause he motioned with his hand to Phroso to take herplace by him, and thus we three walked up to the house. It was alivenow with women and men, and there was a bustle of preparation for thegreat man.
Mouraki sat down in the armchair which I had been accustomed to use,and, addressing an officer who seemed to be his _aide-de-camp_,issued quick orders for his own comfort and entertainment; then heturned to me and said civilly enough:
'Since you seem reluctant to act as host, you shall be my guest whileI am here.'
I murmured thanks. He glanced at Phroso and waved his hand indismissal. She drew back, curtseying, and I saw her mount the stairsto her room. Mouraki bade me sit down, and his orderly brought himcigarettes. He gave me one and we began to smoke, Mouraki watching thecoiling rings, I furtively studying his face. I was in a rage at histreatment of Phroso. But the man interested me. I thought that he wasnow considering great matters: the life of Constantine, perhaps, orthe penalties that he should lay on the people of Neopalia. Yet eventhese would seem hardly great to him, who had moved in the world oftruly great affairs, and was in his present post rather by a temporaryloss of favour than because it was adequate to his known abilities.With such thoughts I studied him as he sat smoking silently.
Well, man is very human, and great men are often even more human thanother men. For when Mouraki saw that we were alone, when he hadfinished his cigarette, flung it away and taken another, he observedto me, obviously summarising the result of those meditations to whichmy fancy had imparted such loftiness:
'Yes, I don't know that I ever saw a handsomer girl.'
There was nothing to say but one thing, and I said it.
'No more did I, your Excellency,' said I.
But I was not pleased with the expression of Mouraki's eye; thecontentment induced in me by the safety of my friends, by my ownescape, and by the end of Constantine's ill-used power, was suddenlyclouded as I sat and looked at the baffling face and subtle smile ofthe Governor. What was it to him whether Phroso were a handsome girlor not?
And I suppose I might just as well have added--What was it to me?