Part 8

The Turkish champion presented a brave figure. His proud bearing and graceful carriage in the saddle were enhanced by the stately action of the beautiful white Arab steed which he rode. He was clad in a splendid suit of burnished steel armor, richly inlaid with arabesque figures in gold. Upon his shoulders were fixed a pair of large wings made from eagles’ feathers set in a frame of silver and garnished with gold and precious stones. He was attended by three Janizaries, one going before and bearing his lance, the others walking on either side and leading his horse to the station assigned him.

No sooner had Tur Pasha taken up position at his end of the lists, than a flourish of trumpets announced the appearance of John Smith. The champion of the Christians presented an aspect as simple as his name and no less sturdy. His chestnut horse was a big, strong Norman, of the breed far-famed for service in battle. His armor was of plain steel and bore upon its surface many a dent in eloquent witness of hard knocks. The only touch of finery about the Englishman was the plume of black feathers which surmounted his helmet. He came upon the field attended by one page carrying his lance.

After Captain Smith had halted at his post, the two champions sat like statues facing each other for a few minutes, affording the spectators opportunity to compare their points. At a signal blast from the trumpet, the antagonists rode forward slowly and met midway in the course. Saluting courteously, they passed each other, wheeled about and returned to their respective stations.

A prolonged note from the trumpet warned the combatants to let down their vizors and set their lances in rest. The next gave the signal for the onset, and before it had died away each horseman had sprung forward urging his charger to its utmost speed. As soon as he felt that his horse was in full career, Smith leant forward, slackening the bridle and grasping the pommel of the saddle with his left hand to steady himself. His lance was couched at a level with his adversary’s breast and his gaze was steadily fixed on the slit in the vizor through which the wearer looked.

Nearer and nearer approached the onrushing horsemen. A few more strides, two brief seconds and they must meet in the shock. John can at last discern the glistening eyes of the Turk and in that instant he raises the point of his lance toward the other’s face. The sudden movement disconcerts the Turkish champion. Involuntarily he shifts his aim and his weapon passes harmlessly over the Englishman’s shoulder at the moment that our hero’s lance enters the eye of Tur Pasha and penetrates his brain. He fell from his horse and Smith leapt to the ground and unbuckled his helmet. A glance sufficed to show that the Turk was dead and with a stroke of his sword John severed the head from the body.

Whilst the pagans in mournful procession carried the headless trunk of their recent champion into Regall, Smith was triumphantly escorted back to the camp of the besiegers. He ordered the head of Tur Pasha to be borne to the quarters of Prince Moyses, who was pleased to accept the grizzly trophy. The spoils of victory were not unacceptable to John, but he had no desire to trick himself out in the fancy armor with its trimmings, and these he sold for a good round sum. The horse, however, he was glad to keep, for he had long wished for an extra mount for light service, but heretofore his slender means had denied him that advantage. In the wars of the time, captains who could afford to do so kept two or more horses during a campaign, one to carry them on the march and another to ride in battle, for a man in armor was no light burden, and a beast that had borne its master ten or twelve miles would not be fit at the end of the journey for great exertion, although the life of its owner might depend upon its rendering spirited service. Captain Smith now had the satisfaction of knowing that he was one of the best mounted men in the army, for the Arab was a marvel of speed and agility and the Norman had been thoroughly trained by himself and was a perfect battle-horse.

The chief mourner in Regall was one Grualgo, a fierce warrior, who had been the bosom friend of the slain pasha. When the funeral rites had been performed after the Muhammadan custom, Grualgo sent a message to Captain John Smith proposing to redeem his friend’s head at the risk of his own. He also offered to pledge his horse, arms and accoutrements on the issue. It is hardly necessary to say that the challenge was accepted with alacrity. Flushed with his recent victory and more than ever confident in his skill, our champion was delighted at this early chance for another display of his prowess. The consent of the general was readily obtained. Prince Moyses was greatly pleased at the cheering effect Smith’s success had worked upon the troops and he was no longer doubtful of the Briton’s ability to uphold the honor of the Christian army. The preparations were made as before, and the next day was appointed for the combat.

Once more the walls were lined with the fair dames of Regall and in their shadow assembled the garrison, more subdued than on the former occasion but buoyed by hopes of better fortune. The Christians, on their part, lined up, exultant and strong in the expectation of another victory for their champion.

Grualgo entered the lists almost as splendidly mounted and equipped as the pasha had been. Captain Smith wore the same plain but serviceable suit of armor and rode his trusty Norman charger. He had again exercised his right as the challenged to name the lance as the principal weapon of the combat.

At the trumpet signal, the combatants spurred forward at full speed, each with his weapon well and firmly aimed at his opponent’s breast. They met in mid-career with a crash that resounded over the field. The lances flew into pieces. The horses fell back upon their haunches. Both riders reeled under the shock but each contrived to keep his seat. Casting aside the splintered spears, they drew their pistols from the saddle pockets. Smith was the first to fire, but at the instant of the discharge the Turk’s horse swerved and the bullet hummed harmlessly by his master’s head. Grualgo had reserved his shot and now took careful aim. The Norman, in response to the pressure of his rider’s legs, was gathering himself for a spring out of the line of fire when the report of the Turk’s pistol rang out. The ball struck John’s headpiece fair in the centre of the forehead but failed to penetrate the steel. Our hero was stunned and sight suddenly forsook him. The bridle dropped from his nerveless fingers and he swayed in his seat. He gave himself up for lost as he felt his senses deserting him. Then came the thought that he was the champion of the Christian army, that they were watching him, depending upon him to secure victory for them. Exerting all the will at his command, he set his teeth together and fought back the inclination to swoon.

Grualgo seeing his enemy at his mercy, smiled with grim satisfaction as he drew his second pistol, intending to dispatch the Christian youth with deliberate and sure aim. But the trusty Norman had not been trained to battle for nothing. The loose seat in the saddle and the relaxed grip of the bridle told him that his master was in distress and depended upon him to save his life. With quick but easy action, so as not to unseat the rider, the intelligent beast strode out of range. The Turk wheeled and galloped after him. His was the swifter steed and he had no difficulty in overtaking Smith’s charger, but each time as he levelled his weapon to fire, the Norman darted away at an angle. In this manner the gallant animal contrived to prolong the combat for many minutes. Meanwhile Smith’s senses and his strength were fast reviving. It gladdened the noble steed to feel the returning firmness of seat and grasp of the bridle, and his master, as his sight cleared, began to lend his guidance to the clever tactics of the animal.

When Captain Smith fully realized the situation, he made up his mind that success could be secured only by bold and daring action. In his weakened state he could not hope to overcome the Turk in a prolonged fight. He must rely upon surprising the other and bringing the affair to an issue by a sudden attack. Grualgo would not risk his last shot until he could make sure of his aim. He probably believed our hero to be sorely wounded and had no thought of his reviving or resuming the offensive.

In one of his horse’s evasive rushes, Smith bent forward upon the animal’s neck as though overcome by sudden pain, but the movement was made to enable him to stealthily draw his loaded pistol from the holster. Holding it concealed behind the high pommel of his saddle, he braced his nerves for the final effort. Once more Grualgo approached his foe but this time, instead of allowing his horse to spring aside, John urged him forward, straight at the astonished Turk. Before the latter could recover his presence of mind sufficiently to use his weapon, the Englishman’s pistol was discharged full in his face, and he fell to the ground in a dying state. Smith dismounted and gave the Turk his _coup de grace_, or finishing stroke, and then cut off his head.

This proceeding must strike us as being cold-blooded and merciless, but it was strictly in accordance with the terms of the combat and the character of the age in which our hero lived. Our forefathers of the seventeenth century were as rough as they were brave. They lived amid scenes of strife and bloodshed, and men who hazarded their own lives daily naturally held those of their enemies cheap.

This second defeat was a severe blow to the defenders of Regall. Their two foremost champions had been vanquished and by a beardless boy, for Captain Smith at this time had barely passed his twenty-first year. There were no more challenges from the disheartened garrison. They lost all desire to afford pastime for the ladies and they ceased to find the Christians subjects for contemptuous jests as they had done in the early days of the siege. Their sallies were now of rare occurrence and were easily repelled, so that the work of preparation for the final assault upon the city went forward with little interruption.

Our hero, in whom love of action was second nature, chafed sorely under the slow and tedious engineering operations. At length he sought and obtained permission from Prince Moyses to send a challenge into the city. This message was couched in the most courteous terms and was addressed to the ladies of Regall, our hero shrewdly suspecting that in this way he would more quickly touch the honor of the men. Captain John Smith begged to assure the ladies of Regall that he was not so enamored of the heads of their servants, but that he was ready to restore them upon proper terms. He urged the ladies to send forth a champion who would risk his head in the effort to regain those of the vanquished Turks. Captain Smith concluded by expressing his willingness that his own head should accompany the others in case the champion of the ladies proved the victor in the proposed combat. In due time an acceptance of this challenge was received from one Boni Mulgro, and a day was set for the trial of arms.

The conditions of this third duel were similar to those that governed the two preceding combats, with the exception of one important particular. John Smith, being the challenger on this occasion, the choice of weapons rested with his adversary. Mulgro had no stomach for a contest with the lance, of which Smith had proved himself a master. He chose to fight with the pistol, battle axe and falchion. In the use of these weapons, and especially the battle axe, he was expert. This wise decision of the Turk came near to undoing our hero as the sequel will show.

At the signal of attack, the combatants advanced upon each other but not at the charge as would have been the case had lances been their weapons. Instead, they caused their horses to curvet and prance and change suddenly from one direction to another. These manœuvres, resembling those of two wrestlers, were designed to disconcert the aim, and in the present instance did so with such complete effect that each of the champions emptied two pistols without touching his enemy.

They now resorted to the battle axe, on which the Turk rested his hope of success. He found in Captain John Smith an antagonist little less proficient than himself. For a while the strife waxed warm and fast without any perceptible advantage to either. Heavy blows were aimed and fended without ceasing, leaving neither, as Smith tells us, with “scarce sense enough to keep his saddle.” At length a hard blow delivered by the Turk struck John’s weapon near the head and it flew from his hand. At the sight of this advantage gained by their champion, the people of Regall set up such a shout as to shake the walls of the city.

It was a critical moment. Smith was disarmed. The Turk was within arm’s length of him. He raised his battle axe to strike a crushing blow. Before it could descend the Norman charger had sprung aside and the weapon cut the air harmlessly. But the danger was only averted for a moment. The Turk pressed close upon his adversary, striving to strike, but each time the axe was raised the good horse reared suddenly or sprung away.

Meanwhile Captain Smith had succeeded in drawing his falchion. Hardly had its point cleared the scabbard, when Mulgro again came on with an incautious rush. As the Turk raised his arm to swing the heavy weapon, Smith thrust with full force and ran his sword through the body of Boni Mulgro.

The Christian army was fairly wild with delight at this third victory of Captain John Smith, and the commander ordered a pageant in his honor. With an escort of six thousand men-at-arms, the three Turk’s heads and the spoils of the three combats borne before him, Captain Smith was conducted to the pavilion of the general, who received him surrounded by his principal officers. Prince Moyses embraced our hero in the presence of the troops and, after complimenting him warmly on his valiant deeds, presented him with a splendid charger richly caparisoned, a beautiful scimitar of Damascus steel and a belt containing three hundred ducats.

But more highly than these gifts John valued the distinction bestowed upon him by his old commander. Count Meldritch, truly proud of his young protégé, there and then appointed him a major-captain in his regiment.

Nor were these the only rewards that fell to the lot of Captain John Smith on account of his prowess at the siege of Regall. At a later period, when the knowledge of his conduct came to Duke Sigismund Bathor of Transylvania, he presented our hero with a picture of himself set in gold, conferred upon him a yearly pension of three hundred ducats--a snug sum in those days--and capped all with a patent of nobility. This patent entitled Captain John Smith to a coat of arms, bearing three Turks’ heads in a shield.

John Smith’s patent of nobility, setting forth the deeds for which it was conferred, may be seen in the College of Heralds, London, where, in its original Latin form, it was officially recorded August 19th, 1625, by Sir William Segar, Garter King-at-arms.

XI.

BRAVE HEARTS AND TRUE

Regall is bombarded and taken by assault--The Earl of Meldritch leads an army of thirty thousand into Wallachia--Fierce fighting and a retreat through the enemy’s country--The “Master of Stratagem” commands the vanguard and clears a pass--The Earl’s depleted army makes a last stand in the fateful valley of Veristhorne--Forty thousand Tartars lay before them and in their rear thirty thousand Turks--The Christians make a splendid but hopeless defense--They attempt to cut their way out and a mere handful escape--John Smith is left on the field covered with wounds--He is found by the enemy and tended--Sold for a slave at Axopolis and sent to Constantinople.

Although the defeat of their champions naturally had a depressing effect upon the garrison, they continued to maintain a strong defence. The approaches, upon which the besiegers had been at work for weeks were now, however, completed and their guns brought within close range of the walls of Regall. For fifteen days a constant fire was kept up by twenty-six pieces of artillery and at the end of that time two large breaches afforded ample avenues for assault.

When the Christian army entered the town a terrific conflict ensued, but after two days of hand to hand fighting through the streets the citadel fell and with the capture of that inner stronghold all opposition ceased. Prince Moyses set his men to repair the fortifications and when that had been accomplished left a garrison in the place and proceeded to the reduction of a number of neighboring towns. At the close of these minor operations the Prince’s army was broken up and Captain John Smith went with the Earl of Meldritch into Wallachia.

The Earl opened the campaign in Wallachia with a body of thirty thousand veteran troops, of which his own regiment was the pick. Opposed from the first to great odds, they performed magnificent service until finally annihilated in the fatal valley of Veristhorne. But the army of Meldritch had many a hard fought fight before that dreadful day. There was one great battle in Wallachia which closed with twenty-five thousand dead upon the field. They lay so thick that “there was scarce ground to stand upon,” says Smith, “but upon the dead carcasses.” Though the Turks were defeated in this affair, the victory had been purchased at such a heavy cost that the Earl decided to retreat upon the fortified town of Rothenthrum, and this with as little delay as possible because fresh bodies of the enemy were moving against him from every direction.

The march of the retiring army was hampered at every step by the enemy, who hung upon its rear and flanks and engaged portions of it in frequent skirmishes. The men were thus wearied and their progress retarded. The special object of these tactics on the part of the Turks became apparent when the Christian commander learned that a strong force had thrown itself across his path. It was posted in a pass through which Meldritch must necessarily go in order to reach Rothenthrum. Nor was this all, for the same news-bearer informed the general that an army of forty thousand Tartars was moving rapidly to join the Turks in the defile.

The situation was extremely perilous but it allowed the Earl no alternative from the desperate course of attacking a body twice as numerous as his own, enjoying the advantage of an ideal position. To turn back would be certain destruction. To stay where he was would be to die like a rat in a trap. The only hope--and it was very slim--lay in cutting a way through the Turks holding the pass and gaining the town, only a few miles beyond, before the reinforcing Tartars could arrive. Hesitation was foreign to the character of Meldritch. Putting a bold face upon the matter, he marched on until within a mile of the pass and then halted his men to prepare for an attack as soon as night should fall.

In the meanwhile our hero’s busy brain had been at work, and when the troops came to a halt he had a simple but well-devised plan to propose to his commander. He lost no time in repairing to the spot where the general stood consulting with his leading officers. Although no more than a major-captain, Smith could always gain the ear of his superiors, who had long since learned to respect his judgment and shrewd resourcefulness.

“Way there for my ‘Master of Stratagem,’” cried the Earl banteringly, as our hero approached. “Now I warrant he hath some bold proposal to advance that shall give us easement in this difficulty. Thou art always welcome Captain Smith, for methinks Dame Fortune dances close attendance on thee.”

Smith revealed his scheme and immediately received the consent of the commander to its execution.

“By my halidame!” said the pleased general, “this powder-magician of ours would rout the forces of Pluto and distract his realm with horrible contrivances. Take what men you need and make what arrangements your judgment prompts, Captain Smith. Tonight the van is under your command.”

The leader of the vanguard was decidedly the post of honor in such an action as was about to begin, and as our captain rode forward in the dark at the head of three hundred picked horsemen, he felt justly proud of the position assigned to him. Each of his men carried a spear on the head of which was fastened a bunch of fireworks, designed to make as much noise and splutter as possible. When they had arrived within a few hundred yards of the Turks who lay in waiting at the entrance to the pass, each man lighted the combustibles at the end of his lance and charged with it thrust in front of his horse’s head. The effect upon the enemy was immediate and decisive. Panic seized their ranks. They turned and fled, falling over one another in their terrified haste to escape the demons by which they supposed themselves to be beset. The horses of their cavalry, no less alarmed by the strange sight, plunged wildly amongst them, increasing the confusion.

Into this disordered mass rode Smith’s horsemen followed by the main body, slaying as they went. So they cut their way through the pass and emerged on the other side without losing a score of their number. It was a great achievement, but Meldritch’s little army was still in very grave danger. The Tartars were close at hand if not already in the way. The Earl pushed forward, but he dared not urge his troops to their utmost speed, in case he should come upon the enemy with his horses exhausted. Furthermore, the night was unusually dark and the men had to keep to the road and proceed cautiously for fear of falling or losing their way.

With the first streaks of dawn, the anxious Earl, riding at the head of the column, began to gaze forward with straining eyes. They were entering the valley of Veristhorne and the refuge they sought was scarce three miles distant. Presently the general, looking across the valley, dimly discerned the black bulk of Rothenthrum upon the farther side. But the cry of joy that started from his lips was cut short by the sight of a huge dark mass stretched across the middle ground. It was too late. Forty thousand Tartars lay before them and in their rear thirty thousand Turks were advancing.

The Earl of Meldritch was one of those rare combinations--a dashing leader and a sound general. His inclination would have prompted him to charge the horde of barbarians that lay in his path, but such a course would have been suicidal. Instead, he led his troops to the base of a mountain where he immediately began dispositions to withstand an attack. The Tartars commenced to form their ranks at sunrise but, fortunately for the Christians, did not advance until noon. This unexpected respite enabled Meldritch, not only to rest his men and horses after their all-night march, but also to make some rough defences. The Tartar cavalry were the greater proportion of their army and that most to be feared. In order to check their charges, the Earl surrounded his position, except where it rested upon the mountain, with a cordon of sharpened stakes, driven firmly into the ground.