CHAPTER VIII

In the year 1446, according to the Christian era, an enormous comet appeared upon the horizon. The golden tint of this phenomenon of the heavens was observed for six months amongst the stars, and when it was closest to earth two-fourths of the sky was covered by the dreaded spectre. When the sun set and the gigantic marvel made its appearance, the pale phosphor head drawing its tail after it, everything was lit up by its wonderful light. Forests, mountains, people's faces, appeared ghastly by its illumination, and all around amongst the mountains was to be seen a glow which appeared like a distant fire lighting up the sky. Only the reflection of the light was not red, but green; and when the moon made her appearance, with her silver-tipped crescent, the two heavenly wanderers followed after one another with curious wonder. Once it happened that the moon went into the vaporous element of the comet, and astronomers then calculated how many million miles it covered and how long it would take before it would touch the moon with its head in place of its tail. Then both would shoot down from heaven, and the Day of Judgment would arrive. Religious folk went on pilgrimages and awaited the Dies Iræ; whose herald was this Lampadias, the name given it by Greek astronomers. Under the fearful glitter of this heavenly phenomenon, which wandered over the horizon and lit up the entire surface of the earth, compelling the inhabitants to breathe its deadly poison, the two most dreaded men in the Mussulman world prepared to fight against one another in a life and death struggle. Sultan Bajazet had 420,000 men; Timur Lenk had 780,000. One million two hundred thousand fighting men, therefore, had to seek a suitable place amidst the Asiatic wastes, which would afford sufficient space for the blood required to be shed.

The two conquerors of the world were not alarmed by the sign from Heaven. They not only divided between them the stars which led them, but they also cut the comet asunder! The head of the Lampadias bent towards the west, and the thinner end of its long mane hung to the east. Bajazet said it was a sword which the Prophet had sent to him, and that with its aid he should kill the heretic Shitáá. Tamerlan, however, gave out that this was the same club which the Prophet had given into his hands, and that the head was turned towards the heretic Szunnita. The stars at the end of the tail he held to be the head of the club, with which he would lay him low! And so, the two greatest generals of the period started in search of one another with two enormous forces, and as quickly as they neared one another, so quickly did the dreaded star approach the earth! The two conquerors debated to themselves which of them would first grasp the comet by its tail!

CHAPTER IX

Bajazet's wife was in the camp in an elevated tent made of muleskin. One thousand women riders went before, and one thousand after her, to keep from her gaze the face of every man. These were masculine women, accustomed to sword-handling, and to cutting off heads, women for whom men can feel but horror, and of whom it is difficult to form an idea. Bajazet headed this woman's camp with 10,000 veteran Janesars and old soldiers scarred with wounds. They were picked out from amongst the Nicapol victors. Every one of them was a hero, and their attacks on the enemy were always made simultaneously. To the right of Maria were 15,000 Christians, mounted and mailed, and under the leadership of Stephen Lazaruvich, the Servian Waidwode. These were the most faithful adherents of the Sultan. The remainder of the troops were led by the Sultan's sons. Suleiman, the eldest, was in the centre of the camp; whilst the two wings, consisting of Turcomans and Tartars, were commanded by Isá and Múza. Amongst these troops were the people of the Khan of Aidin. Mustafa, another of the sons of the Sultan, led the heroic Arab troops; and Mohammed, yet another, was in command of the reserve. Timur Lenk's sons, Mirán Shah, Chalit Shah, and Mirza Mohammed, were also in the camp. Fathers fought against fathers, sons against sons, and women against women! Mirza Mohammed Khan led his own troops, and each detachment was dressed in different colours—some, for instance, in red uniform and red bucklers, with red standards, red saddles, &c., others in blue or yellow, white or black. When they moved in square, it seemed as though figures were moving on a chess-board!

The name of the place where the two opposing forces met was Csibuk Abad. It is an historic spot. Here Pompey and Mithridates fought a decisive battle! At the back stand the celebrated Stetta cedar-forests, and facing it are the endless plains where the tall oriental reeds grow in line from which the people cut stalks to make the stems of pipes, calling them from the place, Csibuk.

Towards the eastern horizon the towers of the citadels of Angora were to be seen, whence Timur might be observed approaching. He was engaged in bombarding this place against the Bey Yakab, when the approach of his opponent caused him to raise the siege.

Between the two forces was only one well (Miral) which supplied the district abundantly with water. The inhabitants were, therefore, right to call it the Sainted Well. Bajazet hastened to seize this before his enemy. He knew very well that he who secured it would have the advantage of tiring out his opponents, who would be forced out into the desert. Sheik Trzlan, an old Dervish, at one time an adherent of Timur Lenk, was the guardian of the well. As a follower of Shi he possessed magic power over the people.

Bajazet rode to this Sainted Well, and asked the Dervish for a drink of water out of it. He filled the jug, and gave it over to the Padishah with the usual blessing, "Glory be to Him who created clouds and wells!"

The Sultan threw a golden piece to the Dervish. Sheik Irzlan picked up the money and looked at the portrait. Then he returned it, saying, "Oh! my Lord, of what use is this money to me, when Timur Lenk's head is engraved here?"

The Sultan dragged the coin out of the Dervish's hand and threw it with horror into the air, wondering how his enemy's money could possibly have found its way into his camp. Then he took out another gold piece, upon which he first looked earnestly; then, seeing his own likeness engraved upon the coin, he threw it to the Dervish. Sheik Irzlan picked it up, and then, with marks of the greatest respect and reverence, he handed it back to him again.

"Why here, my master, on this piece also is engraved Timur's portrait!"

And so indeed it was.

Bajazet, who was now furious, took out a third coin, which he threw to the Sheik, who, on picking it up, showed him that again it bore the same superscription.

"You scoundrelly magician!" shouted Bajazet in despair, "it is your delusive magic!" and he slashed the Dervish across the face and breast with his whip.

"Thank you for your gracious kindness, mighty lord," said the Dervish, putting his blood-stained face into the dust.

Timur Lenk would not have acted like this. He allowed blood to flow in streams, but never in his life did he hurt a scholar or a Dervish. Afterwards when the infuriated Sheik ran bleeding from the breast through the streets of Chorazan, Timur Lenk, looking at him, smiled and said: "This is a sign that Chorazan itself, which is the breast of Asia, will fly to me voluntarily."

And so indeed it came to pass.

Bajazet was so certain of having obtained possession of the Miril well, that the next day he organised a hunting expedition to the ancient forest of Stetta for Maria's amusement. Whilst half of his troops were pursuing the stag or shooting game, and he himself was shooting wild peacocks, the enemy, at a distance of trumpet-call, commenced to pull down the stakes of his camp. In the evening, when the party returned, tired out, from the chase, Bajazet's son, Suleiman, who had been left behind with the rest of the forces, came to him in a furious state, and said:

"To-morrow we shall have to face the enemy."

"Why?" asked the Sultan, with surprise.

"Because we have no water!"

"Surely the well has not dried up in one night?"

"It has not dried up, but it is contaminated. The Dervish whose face you struck yesterday hung heavy stones round his neck last night and jumped into the well, where this morning he was found drowned. You know that when a man has been found dead in a well no one will touch its waters until the new moon. So the camp has been parched with thirst throughout the whole day!"

"Oh! cursed Dervish!"

"Ah! the Dervishes were all devoted to Timur. Beware, for he who was capable of killing himself might yet kill you! And now you had best decide whether you will retreat or make an advance to-morrow, for in this place it is impossible for us to remain longer."

Bajazet angrily pointed to the watch-fires of Timur Lenk, and exclaimed, in hot fury, "Advance!"

CHAPTER X

This was the Sultan's daily greeting, and he now stood face to face with his son's murderer! At the other end of the camp the dreaded signal of the gurgach, twice repeated, responded to the strains of the song, and this was accompanied by the screaming and clacking of the kernai reveillé. The gurgach was a big drum and the kernai a trumpet, and these signals announced that the attack had commenced. When the sun peeped out from behind the lilac-coloured mountains of Karadegh both camps were in marching order. The standards and the horses' tails used as banners were flying aloft in the centre, and the tails of two horses dyed red let it be known that two sovereigns were fighting face to face. Here were Bajazet's Janesars, while there were Timur Lenk's brave Samarcand troops, and between them two rows of fighting and mailed elephants were placed to form barriers. Skilful armed throwers of Greek fire were placed in towers with orders not to waste their arrows on other heads but those of princes. Timur, who was resting upon the bare earth, was greeted in turn by his officers, who stood with their horses' bridles in their hands, exclaiming:

"Raszti ruszti!"

These were historical words by which leave was taken, and they signified "Justice" and "Aid." Amongst the rows of elephants stood a white one, the largest of all. This Timur had brought from the Court of the Prince of Burmah, where it used to be worshipped as a holy animal. On the back of this curious beast a tower had been erected, where the two favourite wives of the Khan, Tumanaga and Csolpán, were seated. The one was the mother of his children, the other his latest favourite. Timur rode up to them before the commencement of the battle, greeted them lovingly, and unsheathed his sword before them. Raising it towards Heaven he exclaimed:

"Now may it be decided which of us is to be thrice separated from his wife!"

Sheriff Said then knelt down upon the ground at Timur's feet, filled his hands with grass, and as a symbol of cursing and destruction, he threw this towards Bajazet's camp. Then turning towards Timur, with a trembling voice he murmured:

"Go, and be thou victor!"

To these words the trumpeters in camp responded.

On the opposite side Bajazet had raised a high wooden tower for his wives, from whence they inspected as from an amphitheatre-box the magnificent and dreadfully dramatic spectacle which was being enacted before them by two real heroes. It could not indeed have been other than a truly novel spectacle to Maria. What a fearful array of Dszins she saw clad in iron and copper armour! Such garb surely could only be worn by inhabitants from another world! What tremendous camps! Surely only evil spirits who fly, constantly following one another through the air, could come in such large flocks! Likerbuli, the favourite songstress, was seated at Maria's feet when the attack commenced, and the strains of her lute seemed to bring the spectators into line to watch the battle which was proceeding before them.

"Look how they come towards us, the cursed enemy! Seven detachments in seven colours like the rainbow! The leader—Timur Lenk's son—the devil whose name is Mirza Abubekr, rides before them. His armour is made entirely of rubies. How it sparkles in the sun! He who faces him, clad in dark armour, and seated on a black horse, is our hero, Lazaruvich. He can be recognised by his standards, which bear crosses. Hearken! how the earth trembles beneath the tramp of their horses. Listen! how the skies ring with the tumult of the battle!"

"'Sürün! Sürün!' exclaim the cruel enemy. 'Allah! Allah!' scream our troops. 'Jesus! Jesus!' shout the men of Lazaruvich, but Allah listens also to these!"

Maria secretly crossed herself, and prayed to Jesus.

"Look, they have just come into collision. The clashing of the swords and axes upon their shields can be heard up here. Look, Timur's seven-hued troops become disordered. Lazaruvich sweeps them away before him as a whirlwind tosses the mown grass, or as the waves of the sea sweeps the shells towards the shore. Ha! Mirza Abubekr's chosen horsemen no longer keep to their own colours. White is mixed with red, and green has yellow patches like china fragments trodden under foot! Lazaruvich is the first hero amongst our troops!"

Maria herself bent forward from her balcony, and applauded this wonderful spectacle, which was soon, however, obliterated from the sight of all in the reedy forest by the clouds of dust which were uplifted. Lazaruvich now commenced to pursue the despised Tartar horsemen who were fleeing towards Angora. Maria, intoxicated with joy, tore the lute out of Likerbuli's hands, and began to sing herself the song glorifying Bajazet and his hero "Korona" (Lazaruvich).

The wild madness of the battle seemed to enter into her soul, and she, too, cursed the drunken enthusiasm of these demons who were always the cause of glory or trouble to her own people.

In the dust-cloud of the battle, Khan Mohammed Mirza noticed his brother's flight, and rushed to his aid, with his crack Samarcand regiment. In the midst of the Csibukabad reeds he reached one of the wings of Lazaruvich, whilst Shah Miron, and Chalid with his archers threw themselves upon the troops of Prince Mustafa just where a gap had been caused owing to Lazaruvich having made a rush from thence upon the enemy. Mohammed, the Sultan's son, was there with reserve troops, but he had orders from Bajazet not to move until ordered to do so by him, for the deceitful enemy might make a circuit, and then there would be need for this reserve. Bajazet, in order to relieve his two sons, ordered Suleiman, who commanded the left wing, to throw himself upon Timur with his entire force.

CHAPTER XI

"You had better defend yourself," he replied to Illisz, as the pike hissed towards him. He grasped it in its flight, and threw it back to the Bey, and the iron penetrated his cheek-bone. In this state his terrified charger ran away with him. Then the Khan of Aidin rose in his saddle and straightened himself on his horse's back, whilst with ringing voice he cried out to the Tartars, "I am your Khan! Return to me, and aid me against the enemy!" In a moment the entire Tartar force turned round to him and threw clouds of arrows upon the Turkish horsemen behind them, and thus cut open a space in the left wing for the advance of Timur's troops.

This move decided the fate of the battle. Bajazet could not believe that his Tartar soldiers would desert him at the sight and by the command of their late master. Those whom he believed to be his own followers had now actually gone over to the enemy! The Sultan's son Suleiman upon this stroke of ill-fate turned his horse's head, struck spurs into him, and was the first to leave the battle-field.

Another son, Mohammed, commenced a fight with the reserve, but no success attended their efforts. The day was lost to Bajazet. The "lightning" was vanquished, and the iron sword prevailed; but Bajazet still could have escaped with the rest of his troops, and might have overcome his enemy from his European forts, could he have reconciled himself to the notion of flight. All round was heard the tumult of the tempestuous war. It was impossible to see, owing to the clouds of dust, and the women away yonder in the velvet tower no longer sang of victory, but trembling awaited the close of the day. Once during the afternoon a ray of hope sprang up, when Timur's force made an advance, and the Waiwode Lazaruvich cut his way through the Csibukabad reeds across Mohammed Mirza, and joined Bajazet in correct battle order. The Sultan stood motionless amidst his unconquered veterans. Lazaruvich, with his fagged out and wounded troops, who were blackened by dust and covered with the blood of the enemy, with broken pikes and torn standards, suddenly appeared before the Sultan.

Lazaruvich hardly recognised him.

"Is it you, my faithful friend?" the Sultan asked, with emotion.

"It is I, father. Escape; the battle is lost!"

"Then let me perish," replied the Sultan. "You had best return. You have wife and children, and have yet a long life to live."

"God can alone bring help," answered Lazaruvich, and quitted the battle-field.

It was already twilight. The escaping forces were seen in all directions. Only 10,000 Janesars stood steadfast round Bajazet. Since the morning they had been thirsting for water: now they thirsted for blood! They could have had plenty of time and opportunity for escape, for Timur did not attack them until later on. The night came on; the sun disappeared, and the comet—the dread of heaven and earth—shone out on the sky. By the aid of its demoniacal glitter Bajazet could see the opponent's army. He was not frightened, either by the star or by Timur's victory, and motionless he stood with his ten thousand men on the spot where half a million men had already perished. Then Timur raised his hand to heaven, as though he would grasp the flaming club, and with it strike his enemy.

"Well, so be it," he said, and with this he gave the signal to start his troops of mailed men, the Dzsagata horsemen and the rows of fighting elephants, against Bajazet's Janesars. Maria heard tremblingly from her tower the bellowing of the elephants. "Ah! the Dzsins, the Dzsins! But Bajazet will pursue them and rout them asunder, for he is the 'lightning.'"

The flying Greek fire opened the attack. From the elephants' towers the blinding sparks came in clouds, and created dazzling colours in this night battle, whilst arrows shot at the same instant from all sides. The Janesars fought and died speechless, as though they were not men, but spectres. The two forces fought without a word. Only the clanking of their swords spoke. Oh! the Dzsins, the Dzsins!

Suddenly one of the flaming arrows cut its way through the ranks of the Janesars, and flew to the women's tower, igniting a velvet curtain, and so setting the whole place on fire. The women, terror stricken, rushed down from the burning amphitheatre, which, in a few moments, was as a burning torch in the midst of the camp, lighting up the spectacle of slaughter. Immediately Bajazet saw this his heart gave way, and he turned back with his suit of horsemen, and, leaving behind him the fighting Janesars, he galloped towards the women. Maria was then lying on the earth, her face covered with dust.

Oh, the Dzsins—the Dzsins! "To horse quickly, by my side, away to the mountains!" exclaimed the defeated "lightning," lifting his wife from the dust, and with these words he escaped from the field. One thousand brave horsemen and two thousand fighting Amazons accompanied them. Mahmud Khan saw the Sultan's flight, and rushed after him with 4000 Dzsagata horsemen. Until midnight he pursued him up to the foot of the mountain. The soldiers left behind fought with Timur's men whilst the Sultan got away.

The Khan of Dzsagat did not relax his search after Bajazet, whose horsemen and horses fell to the right and left, and by daybreak only forty men remained. The Sultan was, therefore, left almost alone with his women. He then stopped and awaited his pursuers. He was clad in impenetrable armour, and held a good Damascus blade in his hand, for he had to defend his beloved harem. Ten of his pursuers fell before their swords could touch him, but finally becoming dazzled by the frequent strokes of his sword, he fell down from his horse at Maria's feet, where he was captured. Maria had to see the face of her demigod become pale and besmirched with dust. His eyes were heavy, and from his lips issued impotent curses.

CHAPTER XII

Timur Lenk was playing chess with his favourite son. The young prince was commonly known as Schach Roch (castleing). He had been called this because it was he who had invented the chessmove where the king changes places with a castle. Just as the prince was saying "Schach Roch" to Timur, the curtains of the tent were drawn back, and before them stood the captured Bajazet. Schach Roch! A king who had exchanged his throne for a tower, indeed; the tower of captivity!

Timur got up from his place, and held out his hand to his opponent, leading him to the divan, upon which he placed him beside him.

"Bajazet, fortune has turned against you. Not so my heart! Fate has made you a captive. I shall allow you to remain a Sovereign. Your tent is ready. You will not be watched by any one. You will find there your wife and your son Muza, who have been taken prisoners, and they will remain with you. I only ask you one thing. That is, your solemn promise not to attempt to escape from me by trickery whilst I remain fighting your sons. If we can conclude peace, then you can return quietly to your country, for Allah does not permit two faithful Sultans to humiliate one another! Therefore you had best give me your solemn word of honour."

Bajazet was moved by his opponent's generosity, so he gave his solemn word, accompanied by a grasp of the hand, that he would not attempt to escape from Timur Lenk's camp. After this he was led to a pompous tent, where his wife and son awaited him. The tent was magnificent, and those whom he loved were there, yet it was a tower in place of a kingly throne. Schach Roch!

CHAPTER XIII

This letter was too tempting for Bajazet, and he eagerly seized the opportunity offered. It was indeed a fact that a subterranean way was made to his tent, but it was Tamerlan's workmen who constructed it! At midnight the hammering of the subterranean poleaxes let the Sultan know that his rescuing body of moles were coming! The earth gave way under his feet, and from a narrow passage human heads rose up from the earth before him. "Come!" whispered the head which ascended from the earth's depths. "Come!" And the Sultan followed the enticer, taking with him Maria and his son Muza. They could only proceed in bent form along the footpath, holding one another's hands. Finally the neck of the cavernous way became visible. The extreme end was the Bakery oven. When Bajazet was going to step out from the low opening, some one put out a hand to assist him, and when he emerged he who had given him a helping hand did not release his own. The Sultan looked at him. Timur Lenk stood before him!

"What! Is this your sovereign word?" he softly demanded of the terrified Bajazet.

The Sultan saw that he was trapped. Timur threw away his hand from him:

"This is not the hand of a Sovereign. It is the hand of a slave."

So saying, he turned away and left him to himself. Bajazet saw only the executioners before him, carrying chains and iron rods in their hands!

CHAPTER XIV

Timur was not an ordinarily cruel man—satisfied to be able to bathe himself in the blood and break the limbs of his opponents. He was a veritable poet and artist in mercilessness! He required poisoned arrows by which to strike his foes. He did not want to kill Bajazet, but he wanted to drive him mad. After this attempt at escape he had a cage made for him out of iron rods, wherein he caused him to be imprisoned, and he placed the cage on a car and had it drawn about the camp. A crier preceded this, pointing out with his pike this spectacle to the curious multitude.

"Here is a captive Sultan; a celebrated wild animal whose name is Bajazet, the King of Kings, the Padishah, the Master of the Seas and Earth, a crowned king who has got four hundred thousand soldiers, foot and horsemen. Look at the conqueror of the Round World! who is the only Master from East to West! He is in the cage!"

Ha! ha! ha! laughed the armed crowd gathered together. Bajazet sat mute and motionless inside the iron bars as though nothing could hurt his feelings. The crowd threw jibes and curses after him, and the youth threw oranges and walnuts into his cage as it is customary to do to monkeys. But Bajazet's face did not change. The crier now formed the idea of playing on the drum and cornet an air which evidently amused him, and which ended in the refrain "Do not let Szivasz fall, or your son be lost!" If anything could fill the captive's heart with bitter sorrow it was this song! Oh, had he only listened in time to this! Oh, if he had not in the days of his pride forbidden it to be blown by the shepherds of Izmid! Had he but only hastened in time to the rescue of his son Ertogrul, he would not then have had to listen to it from the cornet of this bear-dancer and buffoon, who now paraded a King in place of strange animals!

The fellow carried him away in his cage up to the hills where the heads of his heroes were piled up. On the summit of these piles were placed here and there the heads of leaders, whose turbans fluttered in the wind! Bajazet knew these faces too well! They were the heads of his most trusted veterans. He had frequently distinguished them for their services, and kissed their faces after victorious battles! Now they stared at him with glassy eyes from the top of these piles raised from the heads of his troops! After this buffoon had carried the Sovereign captive about the camp, he returned with him to Tamerlan. The Khan, his sons, and the vassal princes, the Khan's wives, and the slaves of the Court were taking part in a fête, and at the height of its amusement the gilded iron cage arrived with its sad captive. A vanquished Sultan brought thus before drunken slaves!

Mockery and shouts of laughter greeted the appearance of the conquered lion from his intoxicated victors, and still Bajazet's face remained unchanged! Timur Lenk himself was drunk. Wine, victory, and revenge—this triple inebriety filled his veins.

"This glass I raise to the health of the master of half of this world," exclaimed the conqueror, and threw the contents upon his opponent's face in the cage.

Yet Bajazet's face remained unchanged!

"Bring fresh wine—more women slaves," said Timur Lenk, thumping with his hand, and Bajazet saw the figure of an elegant slender woman walking totteringly forward. On her head rested a floral wreath. Her hair hung loosely and carelessly around her. Her silken mantle was rent from top to bottom in accordance with Tartar fashion. This woman tottered, for she was herself intoxicated. She went forward to fill the Khan's glass, and in her Bajazet recognised Maria! This was the final blow to the captive Sultan when he saw his wife so humbled and tottering towards the Khan's footstool. Then he sprang up from his seat and grasped the iron bars of the cage, and burst out ravingly, "Oh, you demoniacal beast, Timur! You crippled dog, who have buried your soul's better part in your useless foot, and remain here living in this world, half of you a demon! You are no vanquisher of men! You have never wholly been a man. You can only revenge yourself on women. You grave-worm, who chew treacherously what a greater hero than you has let fall! Detestation rest upon your filthy name! Every woman will execrate you as a coward, and will throw your image on the ground to be played with and broken by her children. Disgrace be upon you and ignominy rest upon your belongings—you, who were hatched by a slave and will be buried by the executioner! You were born to drive camels, you wretch, and your father, who died on a dust-heap, was a better man than you! Faugh! I spit upon you! This will be the best spot in your filthy glory! Curses be upon you and upon your offshoots! Your soul to hell, and your bones to the dogs! Your name to derision! I shall await you, where both of us are to meet!"

With these words he struck his head with such force against the iron railings that he fell down dead.

Tamerlan could no longer joy in his opponent's impotent fury.

CHAPTER XV.

VALDIVIA

Valdivia is the name of a Chilian province; also of the river which there pours down from the mountains into the plains: and likewise of a city which is remarkable for its architecturally constructed bamboo-bridge, and for the fact that every man you meet in the street is called Rocca, and prides himself on his ancestors having been the ancient rulers of Chili and walked about there barefooted. Now the inhabitants have degenerated into wearing boots and they talk Spanish. Even, however, after centuries of blood-mixture by intermarriage, the men of the nation are still peculiar for a certain kind of beard which grows very thin, whilst the women still possess somewhat bronzed complexions and a love of ornamenting their hair with long feathers and snake-skins. Although the male population retain a traditional fondness for slaughtering an enemy when they get fairly hold of him, they no longer, like their fathers, hunt the wild boar; this unfortunate animal, indeed, having long since been hunted out of existence. The noble Roccas, no longer occupied with the chase or war, have become merchants. One, Bria Rocca, is a great sugar-planter; another, Marco Rocca, owns a huge coal-mine; and a third, Alvarez Rocca, does a nice little business in the slave trade.

The Rocca is a fine, powerfully built man, six feet in height, whom one would not care to meet in a lonely road. The native woman is a handsome creature with beautiful eyes, whom one would be charmed to meet in a lonely road were it not that she is a little too quick in slapping one's face.

Descendants of a long kingly lineage, these people to-day go about the streets and along the banks of the river selling Spanish onions and little trinkets.

The town of Valdivia, situated on the river, had a widely different aspect three hundred years ago. At that time stood there the bamboo palace of Bria Rocca, whose façade rested upon two mighty bamboos resembling, in appearance, a couple of polished marble columns. The whole palace was built of this same wood. Its walls were curiously carved, and, but for its majestic dimensions, it might have reminded you of the toy palaces you build in childhood. Its doors and windows were made of interwoven tree branches, whilst its roof was thatched with agave leaves. In front of the palace was a balcony where Bria Rocca was accustomed to hold councils with the sages of his nation, and from this balcony two doors opened into the interior. One of them led into the apartment of Bria Rocca. It was an immense lofty room, and the ceilings were lined with jaguar skins, while the walls were covered with the skins of the black buffalo. Here and there hung axes and hatchets, arrows, specimens of the dreaded tomahawk, sundry warlike weapons of stone, and the deadly globe which, furnished with sharp teeth and hurled at an enemy, would not leave his body until it had torn out his heart. Finally, in a row, were ranged various trophies of victory, including a blood-stained helmet which the king had worn.

The other door led into the queen's apartment. It was finely painted with the dye obtained from the native indigo trees, whilst its ceilings were covered with curiously woven mats. There were two magnificent bedsteads in the room, remarkable for the beauty of their coverlets and still more for that of the curtains with which they were hung; for had not Queen Evoeva spun them with her own hand? It was no wonder that Bria Rocca had chosen her to be his wife; for what woman in the land could weave such gorgeous tapestry as she, or prepare such delicious cheese? It was said of her, moreover, that in the whole dominions there was no woman of such entrancing beauty, her eyes being ablaze with all the colours of the finest opal; and if she only threw one momentary glance through her long, dark eyelashes she could tame the fiercest tiger—and even man himself. Her figure was exceedingly beautiful, and when she danced before her husband she would gracefully curve her head backwards and downwards until she could kiss her own heel. Yet she was wonderfully powerful, and if she was suddenly attacked by a jaguar she would press the beast to her bosom until she had crushed it to death. One might, therefore, easily imagine how highly her embraces would be prized by a man whom she was really in love with, and what pleasures would lurk in one kiss from her sweet lips. Once, when the king had been poisoned in the shoulder by an arrow, she herself sucked the poison out. She was, consequently, very ill for a year afterwards, and the king, of course, thenceforward loved her more passionately than ever.

In the happy land of Chili the trees never cast their beautiful green leaves and the flowers never hide their heads in consequence of the cold. The bears do not betake themselves to slumber during the winter season; and the singing birds do not periodically fly away to a warmer climate. Summer, in this region, is only distinguished from winter by the fresh budding of the flowers, by the falling of cocoa-nuts from the trees; by a glittering appearance assumed by the stem of the hevea tree, which then sheds its juice in abundance; by the strewing of the ground with the nuts of the urcur tree, and by the flowers of the pao tree casting off their wool. There is no difference between the seasons but these, except that winter means a six weeks' spell of rain.

About that time a great fête is held in honour of the gods of the hevea, the urcur, and the pao, who have provided their chosen people with so many good things. On this occasion the inhabitants would cut open the bark of the hevea tree, from which would flow a white fluid which, when boiled by the fire of the urcur nut, was changed into a leathery solid, from which they manufactured all kinds of fancy articles in order to sell them to the surrounding countries, who, not knowing the secret of manufacture, were ready purchasers. On the day of the festival the male inhabitants would wash their skin with the sticky juice of the hevea, and then cover their bodies with the beautiful white wool which comes from the pao-tree, whereupon they painted themselves with gorgeous colours, and the whole covering looks as if it grew to their flesh. The women were not, however, permitted to practise this custom; they had to content themselves with ornamenting their necks with rows of coral, their ears with snake-pendants, and their waist with a girdle of long feathers.

When the flowers are beginning to open afresh, and the beautiful roses for which this land has so long been famous commence to re-expand, then the summer is approaching, and a fête is held in honour of the goddess Morinka. The morinka is a gigantic flower which, growing from the bottom of the lake, expands the petals of its flower on the surface. So huge is it that one single petal would suffice for the cradle of a child, while a single flower will perfume the entire neighbourhood far and wide.

At the time when the morinka commences to spread forth its beauty the inhabitants bring sacrifices to the goddess, who, if in a good temper and auspicious, causes the flower to expand freely and with great beauty. In this case there will be a splendid harvest; but if the flower is scanty and reluctant to open, then the goddess is angry—there will be dearth, drought, and plague, and a foreign foe will invade the land.

The home of the Aruacans was indeed a happy land. The gigantic walls of the Andes mountains surrounded it like a fortification, and the steep mountain clefts cut it off from its neighbours, whose curiosity, desire of conquest, and thirst for treasures made them long to explore its unknown regions. It would have been useless for them to build bridges across the tremendous waterfalls that tore up the mountain peaks; in vain would they have made tunnels through the massive mountains; in vain would they have constructed winding pathways over the ridges; a December rain would have destroyed all man's labour. If that were not sufficient to protect the country from invasion, the Andes mountains had four mighty forts in addition—whose names were Maypo, Peteroa, Chollan, and Antuco. They were volcanic mountains. If only one of these strongholds would have started the campaign against the conquerors there would have been an end to all toils of theirs; the roads would have been replaced by precipices, while the valleys would be covered with lava and icebergs; the plains would be concealed by avalanches dotted over them like soap-bubbles; the entire district, with its cliffs and waterfalls, would appear in a different light, as though in a huge kaleidoscope: towering hills would have taken the place of running waters in the mountain basin.

One day two hundred strangers appeared before Bria Rocca's town; peculiar looking people—such indeed as the good inhabitants had never yet beheld in their country. Straight to the Palace of Bria Rocca did the two hundred horsemen ride along, in presence of curious crowds and with sound of trumpet. Then the leader placed his soldiers in line, and a respectful message that he should allow them to pay him their respects was sent to the Cazcique. The leader's name was Valdivia, now for the first time pronounced in that territory. Did not the land of Chili tremble when she heard this name for the first time? Did not the river swell? Did not the volcanic mountains which had lain dormant for a long time burst out into violent eruption? No, oh no! They are deceived who imagine that the soil is mother of her people and that she feels and grieves over her sons' dangers. The soil is a coquette who delights in strangers, reveals her bosom to them, and to them as to others gives her bloom; she makes love to a new-comer and protects him from hostile attacks; on the graves of her old admirers does she grow him flowers.

Why should she not in the present instance? Were not the Spaniards stately men, superior to the ancient inhabitants? Their whole apparel was bright, and sparkled; the sun could see himself in their glittering buckles, the breeze found an attraction in their fluttering ribbons. And how much more intellectual were they than the old inhabitants! Why, they could actually hold communication by means of signs, and towards whatever direction they desired could shoot out fire by means of metal tubes; they could travel by ocean, and they knew those who lived beyond it; they could build high-towered palaces from stones, and from small threads they made delightful raiment; from seeds they prepared such savoury dishes! Why should not the land prefer them to her old inhabitants! Bria Rocca has already heard of the fame of those white fairies—rumour travels unaided—for now Pizarro had long conquered Peru, which is divided from Chili only by the snow-peaked Cordillera mountains. He accorded a warm reception to Valdivia; he conducted him to his palace, asked him to be seated on his finest bear-skin, and placed before him the best coca drinks in cocoa-nut shells. And no one could prepare them so well as Evoeva! Then Valdivia could talk the language of the Redskins; he acquired their tongue and primitive phrases and could talk as well as if he had been an Inca.

"Gentle Cazcique," he said to Bria Rocca, "brethren never come to visit you with strong and friendly arms. In one hand they hold glittering pearls and jewellery, which would gracefully adorn your women's necks, also fire-concealing liquor which exhilarates the sad ones and strengthens the feeble; it cools in hot weather, warms in cold. The other hand contains sharp iron which would cut your shields, and fire-throwing implements which aim from a distance! You can choose which one you please. We do not ask much of you, only give us that little hill you call Guelen, that we may build ourselves a shelter there, near the Matocko river. Consider your reply to my proposal."

Bria Rocca puffed thrice from his hookah, and while looking through its smoke, pondered what he should say.

"You remarked that you are white brethren and that you come with full arms; in the one hand carry presents, in the other guns. We are accustomed to catch monkeys in a similar manner; in one hand we hold fruit, in the other spears, and when the animal approaches for the fruit we hurl the spear at it. We desire not your presents—neither those from the right hand nor those from the left. Our women are pretty enough without your pearls, we are in good spirits without your liquors, and if you have more effective guns we have stronger arms; and if you present fire, we throw poison, which also brings death. If you wish for the Guelen mountain in exchange for your pearls and liquors you will not get it; if you ask it in return for sharp swords and fiery arrows, once more, you will not get it; but if you ask it nicely, you can have it gratis."

"What is the 'nice' phrase, gentle Cazcique?"

"That you will never do us any harm, that you will leave us in peace and not destroy our forests."

Valdivia promised the Cazcique that they would remain faithful brethren, and as a proof of eternal friendship they both drank water from the river Matocko out of a pumpkin-shell. They then broke the shell and divided its pieces as a token of the sealed friendship, the idea being that just as the pumpkin-shell could not be put together without mutual consent, so they themselves could not be happy the one without the other. They finally smoked the pipe of peace and parted company. Valdivia mounted his horse and his followers went away, leaving behind them a cask filled with the "drink of wisdom"—the phrase by which the Spaniards designated brandy when speaking of it to the Indians.

The Indian fathers asked Bria Rocca to divide the spirit amongst them, in order that they might all taste it and become as wise as the white people—"And such slaves as the Peruvians," thought Bria Rocca, though he did not say so. The spirit of the great Tao-tum had blessed him with the art of keeping judiciously silent. He poured out the spirit into a large tank and placed all the curious people around it, remarking that when he gave the signal they should bend down and drink to their hearts' contents. Bria Rocca then lit a long camphor laurel switch, which burned with a white flame, and twirled it round his head, thereafter dipping it into the tank. Hardly had the burning shoot touched the tank's contents when, in a moment, they became ignited, and the wonderful white transparent liquid began to burn with a pale blue flame from every part of the vessel's surface. The Indians recoiled in terror from this strange phenomenon, but Bria Rocca thrust his switch into the flaming fluid, and the blazing drops were spurted over their naked bodies like a shower of fire-sparks. He then grasped the edge of the tank and poured out from it the flaming liquid, which followed the Indians as they retreated. Even those of them who managed to escape carried on their heels some flames, and a certain amount they dropped at each step they took. The good people asked no more to taste the wise men's spirit, and the Spanish calabasse did not have the same destroying charm over them as it did over their copper-coloured brethren.

In the Tlenoch legendary lore there was a strange and ancient tradition, originated long before the Spaniards set foot on that soil. According to one legend the Queczalcot gnome had appeared hundreds and hundreds of years before in South America; its face was white, with a beard and moustache, and it taught the people what herbs to eat, also chronology, the use of copper, and the building of houses. The gnome remained there for a century, spreading happiness all over the country. Then it disappeared across the sea, towards the east, promising to return hundreds of years thereafter, when it would teach much more. Well! the legend has just been fulfilled. The blessed white-faced, black-bearded descendants of Queczalcot have come, and have brought many nice things. In the rich Aztec province of Tlenoch this teaching was very easy; the Aztec tribe were already an extremely submissive people; they knew already the value of gold and apparel; they had their own fashions and a rich capital, which overlooked on one side a salt-water, and on the other, a fresh-water, lake. Around the earth were built houses, pyramids, and sacrificial teocallis, where at holiday time hundreds and hundreds of their chosen men are sacrificed to their bloodthirsty gods. Gold and men's lives were of small value, but pleasures were expensive. No wonder, therefore, that the Spaniards taught them so quickly how to appreciate their imported pleasures. But in Chili the gold was still under the soil; the people were treading upon it, not it upon them. Their hatred of foreigners existed from time immemorial, and also the desire to preserve their ancient customs, which they worshipped. So the Spaniards found them very bad pupils, their alluring words were not appreciated by the old ones; their presents were not esteemed by the young; the women's eyes refused to rest upon them. These people could be subdued by bold and daring means only.

Valdivia gave wonderful presents to Bria Rocca for the Guelen mountain—a fully caparisoned horse, a kingly present and one worthy of acceptance being amongst the number. Cazcique could not refuse such a gift, and after having learnt to ride was pleased to know how he looked on horseback. At that time the proper use of the noble horse was unknown to the Indians. Valdivia had calculated well. As soon as Bria Rocca became possessed of his horse he rode about for several weeks upon the Salt Plains, and employed his time in pursuing herds of musk-ox in the high and luxuriant prairie grass, never dreaming that the Spaniards were building a fort on the top of Mount Guelen. When the Morinka fête was about to be held, Bria Rocca, according to established custom, ordered every man to retire from the scene; the Morinka fête was for women only, and no man's eye was allowed to witness it. On such occasions the people would retire to the forests to hunt; in town none were left but children and old women; the young married women and maidens were at the Morinka lake, and nobody was allowed to disturb them. Let that man beware who would dare to set eyes on this fête! He would carry the sentence of death upon his face. Although he should hide in forest after forest yet would he be traced out and killed for presuming to invade the Morinka fête. The heavenly flower morinka is herself goddess amongst flowers; a most peculiar plant is she; eleven months of the year she reposes under water, twelve feet beneath the surface. During this time she has no actual existence. When her birthday arrives, which it never fails to do, for it falls at that precise date when the day is longest and the night shortest, all of a sudden the lake gets covered with brown and orange-coloured bubbles a span long, which float on the surface like many small boats. One day later the bubbles will burst open, and the knotted membranes will expand, enormous cup-shaped leaves coming out, whose inside is painted a pale carmine colour, which glitters on the rich and fleshy fibres of the leaves like the inside of an autumn peach. Its light green netted veins turn to a bright gold as they approach the stamens, the leaves begin to develop with astonishing rapidity, and spread on the water's surface like round tables. The pale carmine enamel changes into a mild green colour, and the veins that from yellow and lily colour have become carmine in netted form divide it up into 1000 squares. The tremendous leaves grow and extend with visible rapidity; some of them are a fathom in width. Thus they cover the Morinka lake with a wonderfully rich carpet, over which, indeed, one may walk to and fro. The wide leaf may bend, but it will not become filled with water under the tread. A man's weight is no more to it than is a butterfly's to an ordinary flower. Ten days afterwards the buds—their huge closed cups as large as a child's head—burst from under the leaf, resting sideways owing to its weight. The outer leaves, which are white and netted, are as large as melon slices; two days afterwards they have changed to a pink colour, and on the night of the fourth day they burst. The flower does not bend any more, but stands straight.

As the cup bursts open many white petals appear from the light pink calyx. An indescribably sweet perfume spreads all over the district; and so intoxicatingly delicious a sensation does it produce upon those who have inhaled its pure and virgin fragrance that a woman forgets she is a woman and imagines herself a fairy. On the fifth and sixth days the flower opens quite, and one petal after another develops; on the seventh day it appears in its fullest glory.

The petals have snow-white branches, coloured deep red; their centre is of a rich gold colour, containing thousands of thready moulds. The length of the calyx is then from three to four spans. The Morinka fête takes place on the night when the flower opens. It is held at new moon, under a dull sky; for so sensitive to light are the petals of our fairy plant that with the moon's light even they open but half-way; when the sun shines they shrink together again; but the stars' cold glitter is very dear to them, as also are those star mimics which are visible from afar, and whose virgin brilliancy does not affect the picturesque senses, I mean the fire-fly.[4]