Under the yoke, p.38
Under the Yoke, page 38
worked with untiring activity at the organisation of the
defences, burning with impatience to hear that Bela
Cherkva had risen. But Bela Cherkva was quite peaceful,
like the other towns and villages in the valley. Ognianoff,
with a bursting heart, cursed the chance which had brought
him to Klissoura. He saw the fearful effect produced on
the insurgents by this ominous silence, which paralysed the
whole movement. In vain he sought to encourage his
comrades with solemn asseverations that Bela Cherkva
would certainly rise, and that the other towns would
follow its example. Finally he began to despair himself,
and to foresee with terror the collapse of Klissoura and
of the whole revolt. He then resolved upon a bold,
almost reckless undertaking — to make his way through the
infuriated Turkish villages to Bela Cherkva and force it to
rise.
He was exposing himseK to terrible peril. But the revolt
of Bela Cherkva would supply the spark which would kindle
all the other places ready to rise along the whole length of
the Stara Planina. The forces of the Turks would be
divided. Klissoura would be saved — the revolt extended
far and wide — ^and, who knows ? the revolution triumphant !
Many great events in history have been due to trifling
circumstances. The result was, therefore, well worth the
risk — and if any one could achieve it, Ognianoff was the
man.
It was past noon when he reached the valley, which was
now in full bloom, bathed in shade and verdure. Clear
crystal brooks flowed down the hillsides past the branching
oaks. The air was heavy with the perfume of the roses,
like the boudoir of some royal favourite. The valley
beneath that azure sky and in the joyous rays of the sun
was enchantingly lovely — like an earthly paradise . But the
wayfarer saw nothing of all this — he would have preferred
to have seen it in flames.
His path lay through the Turkish village of Rahmanlari,
the nearest to Klissoura. He approached it fearlessly. As
he passed through the rose-gardens at the outskirts of the
village, he was stopped by some armed Turks, who were
evidently on " guard. Where are you from, brother ?
"
" From Altinovo."
" And where are you bound for ?
''
VALLEY OF THE STREMA IN FLAMES 228
" For Ahievo ; are things quiet there ?
"
Ahievo was the nearest Turkish village to Bela Cherkva.
"
Yes, thank God."
Ognianoff felt a sharp pang at his heart.
" You'd better stop at the village ; we're going to attack
Klissoura to-morrow."
" Thanks — we'll see. Good-bye."
And Ognianoff entered the village. There he found great
excitement prevailing, the streets were crowded, groups of
armed Turks were standing about, the cafes were thronged,
the grocers' shops and the inn were full of people. Evidently
there were several hundreds of Turks there from neighbouring
villages, come to take part in the attack on Klissoura.
Bahmanlari was the place of meeting. Though overwhelmed
with a terrible presentiment of what was in store
for Klissoura, Ogiiianoff was still more anxious for positive
information respecting Bela Cherkva : he yet hoped that
it might have risen at the eleventh hour. He had almost
made up his mind to enter the inn, which was kept by a
native of Bela Cherkva. But he was afraid of treachery
and did not go in. He went on, eyeing the various groups
of Turks, undecided which he should approach. He happened
to reach the door of the mosque, into which worshippers
were crowding ; he looked in and saw that it was
nearly full. Something extraordinary was evidently going
on there. Ognianoff guessed that the khoja was going to
preach a sermon to excite still further the fanaticism of the
already infuriated crowd. An insurmountable curiosity
impelled him to squeeze himself in among the throng of
worshippers. He was not disappointed — at that moment
the preacher mounted the wooden bench which serves as
the pulpit in Mussulman places of worship. Ognianoff saw
at once that it was no common village khoja, but a softa,
who had probably come on purpose from K.
Amid profound silence, the softa began :
" Brethren and true believers ! There was a time in the
glorious reign of our great Sultans when the whole world
trembled at the name of the Osmanli. East and West
bowed down before them ; kings and queens prostrated
themselves to lick the sacred dust before the throne of the
Khalif . Then Allah was great, and great was His sainted
prophet Mohammed. But it seems we have greatly sinned
before God, we have given way to drunkenness and adultery.
224 UNDER THE YOKE
we have fraternised with the unbeliever and adopted his
laws. And so God has abandoned us to be destroyed by the
vanquished, to be trampled on by the downtrodden. Ay,
Allah ! Allah ! grant us the flaming sword of the angel
Azrail that we may drench east and west with the blood of
Thy foes — that we may redden the seas and glorify the
heavens. This is my prayer, true believers ! Whet your
knives and make ready your weapons, for the hour has
struck, and we shall wash away our shame with the blood of
the Ghiaours, to the glory of the one and only God of Islam."
In this spirit the orator began his impassioned harangue,
which was a long one, and which his hundreds of hearers
received with rapt attention and increasing enthusiasm.
" So this is what's going on," thought Ognianoff, as he
went out into the street.
" The croakers were right after
all. While we were preaching the insurrection against the
Turks, their apostles were preaching the extermination of the
Bulgarian nation. The struggle will be a terrible one — it
will be nation against nation. Bulgaria is not broad enough
to contain the two races side by side ! Well — so be it — no
retreat ! The die is cast ! Oh ! God ! protect Bulgaria in
her holy struggle !
"
And he began again to walk up and down the marketplace.
The service was over and the congregation flocked
out : they formed in small groups, all evidently still under
the influence of the words they had been listening to.
Ognianoff drew near one of these groups to catch what was
being said. He soon understood the position of affairs.
At first the rising at Klissoura had terrified the Turkish
population of the neighbouring villages, because they were
convinced that there were Russian troops at Klissoura.
Under the influence of this idea, they had begun to prepare
for flight with their families and such portable property as
they could collect. But they soon learnt from Turks who
had succeeded in escaping unharmed from Klissoura — as well
as from the want of daring shown by the insurgents — that
they had to do with common rayas, mostly cloth -workers,
and a few schoolmasters ; and this at once restored their confidence
and courage. They resolved to settle accounts with
the people of Klissoura without waiting for the regular
troops. Ognianoff also heard that the villagers of Rahmanlari
had ascertained through skilfully planned reconnaissp
.ces the disposition and approximate strength of each
VALLEY OF THE STREMA IN FLAMES 225
garrison. Tossoun Bey was expected to arrive the next
morning from K. with a band of bashi-bozouks, and then
they would at once attack the revolted city.
These discoveries terrified Ognianoff. He now recognised
still more clearly how indispensable it was to hasten the
rising in other Bulgarian towns.
Tossoun Bey must be anticipated.
He set out eastward. He passed unmolested through the
Turkish village of Tekkie. It was guarded only on the
western side, a sign that no danger was expected from the
east. Here also great activity was noticeable ; here also
Tossoun Bey's arrival was being awaited ; the villagers
were to join his horde.
"
There's not a minute to lose ! Bela Cherkva — Bela
Cherkva. Tossoun Bey must first of all try his strength
against its walls of iron. They'll rise — ^yes, yes — they'll rise
the moment I get there. If I can only get hold of BezportefE
we two will proclaim the rebellion, and in half
an hour I'll have five hundred men under the colours.
Bela Cherkva must revolt, even though it means her ruin.
Forward, forward ! Oh, God, give me wings !
"
And Ognianoff tore onwards to Bela Cherkva. In two
or three hours he would see from afar the white chimneys of
the town, and the pyramid-like frontal of the church. His
heart beat with insensate joy.
Not far from the village he had just left the path lay
through a thickly wooded gorge which lay in a cleft of the
rocks. When he reached the valley he seemed to hear
distant sounds of drums and cymbals. Probably some
wedding was going on in a Turkish village, most unseasonably
as it seemed. But soon all grew silent and he forgot
what he had heard. As he emerged at the opposite end of
the gorge the drums and cymbals echoed again, this time
quite close by. He clinched the heights, astounded : from
the summit he saw a spectacle which petrified him with
dismay.
The whole path before him was dark with Turks,
marching on to the sound of that barbaric music. Several
red banners waved in the air. The horde was moving on
without any order, tumultuous and noisy. In the sun guns,
scythes, axes, pitchforks, gleamed on the shoulders of the
bashi-bozouks. Most of them were in their waistcoats and
shirt-sleeves, on account of the noonday heat. The wave
226 UNDER THE YOKE
had emptied the Turkish villages through which it had
passed. There was no semblance of discipline throughout
that frenzied horde ; but a fierce, savage object united
them, inspired them, drove them ouAvard : they all sought
alike blood and booty. For the first, they carried their
guns and scythes ; for the second, a whole train of waggons
followed behind. This rabble, drunken with fanaticism,
moved on to the sound of the drums and cymbals, advancing
slowly but irresistibly like a swarm of locusts.
Before them rode a tall, thin, dark man, with a white
turban : he was their leader.
He beckoned to the gipsy musicians to " stop. Come here, Mussulman !
" he cried to Ognianoff.
OgnianofE approached, bowing low.
" Where are you coming from ?
"
" From Tekkie."
" What's going on there ?
"
"
Nothing — all's well, thank God !
"
" What do they say — are there many of them at
KHssoura ?
"
*' A good many, they say — God save the Sultan !
"
" Who are they ?
"
"
" Moskovs, they say."
Silence, you pimp. They're nothing but rascally
ray"as."
Beg pardon. Bey Effendi."
" Where are you going ?
"
" To K."
*' Turn back and come along with us."
O"gnianoff involuntarily turned pale.
Bey Effendi, won't you let me "
" To the rear," cried Tossoun Bey, spurring his horse.
The host moved on again — the drums and cymbals
struck up — Ognianoff was forced along with them.
It would have been absurd to resist or to try to pass
through the mob which blocked the whole path. The
wretched man, with despair in his soul, let himself go with
the throng. He was utterly overcome — ^his last hope had
vanished. He went on mechanically, as in a dream, driven
forward by the noisy crowd, whose numbers and fierce
merriment increased every moment. And the human wave
pushed on, on, to the bare peaks behind which lay
Kiissoura.
A FRESH ATTEMPT 227
CHAPTER XIV : A FRESH ATTEMPT
In the evening Tossoun Bey's horde reached Rahmanlari,
still more excited and fanatical. It was met there by a
fresh detachment of Turks who had flocked in from the
surrounding villages. Tossoun Bey would march against
Klissoura the next day with a force of about two thousand
men.
The village was a mass of light. It would scarcely
contain these new arrivals. As the night was a fine one,
most of them lay down to sleep in the streets.
Ognianoff unwillingly followed this example.
He lay down by himself on a mound near the inn, which
was kept by a man from Bela Cherkva.
Though it was late, there were still lights ijj the windows
of the inn, which was crowded.
Ognianoff was resolved not to sleep. He determined to
make an attempt to escape from that hornet's nest of Turks
into which he had fallen — to-morrow this would be impossible.
Deep in thought, he fixed his eyes on the brightly illuminated
windows of the inn. He was trying to contrive
some means of passing through the numerous guards that
protected every exit from the village.
He hoped that this would easily be accomplished owing
to his costume and thorough knowledge of the Turkish
language. But, alas ! what would his escape avail, even if
he was successful ?
Bela Cherkva remained peaceful, and nothing could save
Klissoura from destruction.
To try to make his way to Bela Cherkva that night was
almost out of the question ; the guard on the east side of the
village had strict orders to let no one pass, so as to keep
back any casual deserters. Next day it would be still more
impossible. Indeed had it been posible, he would not have
gone to Bela Cherkva now. He felt he had no right to be
absent from Khssoura at so terrible a moment. His
absence would be considered as a cowardly desertion. No,
it was not to be thought of. But how could he send word
to Bela Cherkva ? Could he not make one last attempt ?
And he strained every nerve to try and hit upon some plan.
At last an idea struck him. He decided to propose to
the innkeeper to send one of his sons to Bela Cherkva next
228 UNDER THE YOKE
morning : the messenger might for safety's sake be accompanied
by some travelling Turk, as to-morrow was
market-day at K.
The plan seemed a feasible one, though the difficulties
in the way of its realisation were very great, but its importance
was worth the effort and the risk. For the danger
was undeniable : he must begin by reveaKng himself to the
innkeeper, and place his fate in the man's hands.
Fortunately he knew him and his family, one of the sons
having been his pupil : this somewhat encouraged him.
He rose from the mound, passed boldly through the gates
