The Circassian Chief: A Romance of Russia

“Oh do not ask me, my father! now that I am again happy,” replied the daughter. “I did but for a moment feel somewhat ill, and feared that guests were coming whom I did not wish to receive. I am well again, my father, now that you are with me.”

“I have matter of importance to communicate to you,” said the chief, “you know Ina, that I so love you, that for all the riches of the mighty Padishah of the Osmanlis, I would not part from you; but yet, sweet one, the stern necessity of war compels me to leave you, and I must haste to join the hosts of my countrymen to repel our invaders. I may perchance fall, and leave you unprotected.”

“Do not say so, my father,” cried the lovely Ina. “Surely heaven will protect us, as it has done before. But why this sudden haste? Stay but some short time longer with me, and among your fields and retainers. Nothing can have happened to call you so quickly away.”

“It may not be, dear daughter. Now listen to my words. I have already told you that the valiant Khan, the noble Khoros Kaloret, has seen you – that he loves you. He is rich and brave; hundreds of retainers obey his commands and follow him to battle. He has numerous slaves who till his fields; rich pastures on which large herds of cattle graze; innumerable flocks wander over his mountains, while none can boast of finer horses or richer armour. What more can I say of him? He has sent his brother, who has just arrived, as an envoy to demand you in marriage, and I have spoken much to him. He says that he loves you, truly and deeply – that he would sacrifice half his possessions to gain you. Nay, tremble not, loved one. You know that horses, cattle, or the richest armour, are but as nought compared to you – that I would give all I have for your sake; but yet in this time of war, when any moment may lay me low, I would find some gallant protector who would shield you from danger; that when I am in the land of the blessed spirits, I may look down and see my child happy. Many there are who would be to me as a son, and would gladly accept your hand and succeed to my possessions; but none appear to win my Ina’s heart. Say, will my child become the bride of the Khan?”

“Oh my father, indeed, indeed, I feel your kind and generous conduct,” exclaimed Ina, with feeling and animation. “Where other fathers do not consult their daughters’ wishes, you willingly yield to mine. I too have seen the Khan, but I would not be his bride; I cannot dream of love for one like him. For your sake, my father, I would wed whom you wished; but still he should be one whom you too could love, who would obey, and follow you as a son. Ah! that Allah had made me one, that I might follow you to the battle, and share your dangers and your victories. If I were to wed this Khan, I should see you no more; I should be carried far away to his mountain home, distant from the sounds of war and strife, when you would be left alone without a child to attend you, when sick or wounded; or should you return victorious, none would be in your home to offer you a joyous welcome. Oh, my father! let me still remain your daughter; let me remain to tend your household and your flocks, if you will not let me go with you. But oh! how much rather than become the wife of the richest noble, would I follow you to the field, to cheer you in the camp, to dress your food, to be your page and attendant. This I can do.”

“Alas! my daughter, I cannot leave you here, for I must take all the followers that I can muster to the field. I have now so few, that I cannot leave enough to guard our home; and should our invaders gain the entrance of this pass, my house and fields must fall a prey to them. Then, my Ina, would you not be more safe and happy as the wife of a powerful chief, with thousands of warriors to fight under his banner, than to be following me amid the toils of a campaign?”

“No, oh no,” replied the daughter. “I do not, I cannot love the Khan; he is brave, but fierce, noble, and cruel; his followers obey him more through fear than love. His very features bespeak his character; he is no true son of the Attèghèi, and I would wed none but a scion of the true stock. Oh, tell the Khan’s brother, that you cannot part from me; that I am your only child, your successor; that I am not worthy of the Khan’s thoughts; that Circassia has many maidens far more prized than I. Oh! say that you will do so, and restore happiness to your daughter’s heart. It was the thought of this that made me sad and ill.”

The Chieftain gazed at his daughter with a glance of deep affection; yet, for a moment, the customs of his country seemed contending with his love. Nature, however, triumphed over habit.

“I will do as you will, my Ina,” he cried, clasping her in his arms. “I will send word to the proud Khan that even he cannot melt the icy heart of my child. Nay, do not weep, my daughter; you shall not leave me against your will for a stranger’s care.”

“Thanks, thanks, my father,” exclaimed Ina, affectionately returning his embrace. “You have restored peace and joy to my heart, and gladly will I prepare to accompany you to the camp.”

“That cannot be,” replied the chief. “Your delicate frame is but ill prepared to share the hardships of a warrior’s life; but your safety shall be better cared for, and I will bestow you with the family of my kinsman, the noble chief Aitek Tcherei. His lands are far removed from danger, among the rocky fastnesses of the mountains; and yet, so near the camp, that a quick-footed messenger, may reach it on the second day. Thither will I conduct you, Ina, ere I seek the field; and there, with a companion of your own age, you will be safe and happy. To-morrow after the sun has risen, prepare to accompany me, with your women and slaves; I must now away to the guest-house, to give your message to the young Khan Besin Kaloret, who is eagerly expecting an answer; and were it not for his oath of peace, methinks the proud Tartar Khan would ill brook a refusal. And now, Ina, farewell, till to-morrow’s morn, when I will meet you with my retainers to guard you on your way.”

The Chieftain arose, again bestowing an affectionate embrace on his child, as she presented him with his casque. He replaced it on his head, and quitted the chamber, attended by his daughter to the door. She followed him with her eyes, till he reached the entrance of the guest-house; when returning to her couch, she placed her hands before her face, and gave way to her overcharged feelings, in a flood of tears.

The little slave Buda gazed with astonishment, to see her mistress so overcome with distress; she approached her with concern.

“Oh, my dear mistress! why do you weep?” she cried.

Ina looked up at the little girl, with an affectionate and grateful eye. “I weep not through pain, Buda, but that I am a weak, foolish girl, unworthy, some would say, to be a maiden of Circassia, where all ought to be brave and bold. I weep, because I may not share my father’s dangers, and that I may never again see him, or hear his voice. I weep too, for joy, that he so loves me, that he will not part from me. But I must not give way to thoughts like these, or my tears will not cease flowing. I must nerve my soul to bear all that may happen, with the courage of a daughter of the Attèghèi, if I have not the strength of her sons. Now haste, Buda, we have much to do, to prepare for our journey. Summon the women from the fields, tell them that we must leave our home; bid them hasten to prepare our goods and furniture for our journey. Go, good Buda, go.”

As the little slave ran off to obey her mistress’s behests, the pet-kid again gambolled within the door of the room, and ran bleating to its fair guardian, looking up with its soft eyes full of affection, to her face. She bent down, and took it up in her arms. “Ah! my little plaything, and you too, I must see for the last time; perchance, no more shall I look upon your pretty gambols; no more will you come to be fed by my hand. When I am gone, you will wander wild among the mountains, with no roof to shelter you, and miss the care of your mistress, or a more sad fate, perhaps, be driven into the hands of those worse than wolves, our greedy invaders. Farewell, pretty one! give one more look with those soft eyes, and then go, forget me, and be happy among the wild flocks of your kind.”

The little animal, as if understanding her words, or the tone of her voice, ceased its frolicsome play, and seemed unwilling to quit her side.

The whole household was kept the rest of the day in a state of bustle and activity. The women were busily employed in making packages of all the light and easily moved valuables of the family; every one being too well prepared for the necessity of such a movement. Ina herself attended, to see that the tasks were properly performed; for a Circassian maiden, even of the highest rank, does not consider it a degradation to attend to her household affairs, but rather an honour to be so employed.

Volume Two – Chapter Eight

The chieftain, Arslan Gherrei, was one of the bravest of the nobles of Circassia. He was generous in his behaviour, courteous in his manners, and temperate in the extreme; but there was a melancholy in his countenance, almost approaching to sternness. He kept aloof from his countrymen, except in the council of war or the scene of strife, where his advice was respected, and his standard followed with alacrity. At their banquets and scenes of conviviality and amusement, he was scarcely ever to be found, preferring rather his domestic hearth and the society of his daughter.

Such was the father of the beautiful Ina, the devoted patriot, the champion of Circassia; but as we shall have occasion to refer, at a future time, to the particulars of his history, we will now follow his steps to his guest-house, where the young noble, the brother of the Tartar Khan Khoros Kaloret, was anxiously waiting his return with Ina’s answer to his brother’s proposal of marriage; not dreaming that it was possible any maiden of Circassia could refuse so noble an offer.

The young Khan, who was seated on the divan at the further end of the apartment, attended by his squire, rose as the chieftain entered. He was a tall, hard-featured youth, of herculean frame, clothed from head to foot in chain armour, over which he wore a dark cloak of thick cloth; his head was guarded by a helmet, or rather cap, of iron, trimmed round the edge with a thick fur border, giving to his face rather a ferocious appearance, which his overhanging and scowling brow did not belie. By his side hung a ponderous two-edged sword, the handle richly embossed with gold and ornamented with jewels, as was the poniard at his belt. His other weapons, as well as those of his squire, hung against the wall over his head.

His squire was without armour of any sort; but his cap was of the same coloured fur as his master’s; and his dress of dark cloth fitted closely to his figure. This man was of shorter stature than the Khan, and thick set, with the same disagreeable, forbidding cast of features. The Khan seemed eager for the chieftain’s reply, though he tried to conceal his anxiety; but before either of them spoke, his host, motioning him to resume his seat, took a place on a cushion opposite to him, waiting for his guest to commence the conversation.

“Noble Uzden, what answer does the bright dawn of day send to my gallant brother? Will she be the queen of his anderoon, and the future mother of our noble race? When will she be prepared to meet my brother on her road to his home, and when shall I again come with a large company of our retainers, such as befits her rank and beauty, decked in bridal array to bear her away to the longing arms of her spouse?”

“It cannot be,” answered the chieftain, gravely, “I speak not with disdain of the noble Khan, your brother, but my daughter is to me as my son; and not even to him, for all the riches of Stamboul, will I part with her against her wish. Ina is still young, and loves me as a son would. Tell your noble brother that she will yet remain with her father; that she is the only bright jewel I cherish; that I value her more than the richest armour, or steeds of the purest race. There are other maidens of the Attèghèi, gladly willing to cheer your brother’s home – willing to be the mother of his sons, brave and warlike as their father; may Allah send joy to his house! but my daughter cannot be his bride. It is enough, Khan, I have given my answer.”

The brow of the young Besin Khan grew darker at these words. “Must I then go back to my brother with such an answer as this? Must I go tell the leader of a thousand brave warriors that a weak girl will not bow to his will? Why thus, oh Uzden! do you throw dirt in my face? Must I speak such words as these in my brother’s ear? Think you that he will listen to me? He will say that I am laughing at his beard. He will tell me to return and bring back his bride; you know not my brother, if you suppose that he will hear with calmness such words as these. He will not rest. He will send me back with another message, and will not receive me till I return with his bride. Say then, oh chieftain! that the sweet bird shall quit her bower, that she will come and sing in my brother’s anderoon. She will soon be happy there, though at first she may mourn for her father’s home; and she will become my brother’s pride, his brightest jewel, his sweetest flower. He will send you, Uzden, a coat of armour through which no sword can cleave; four noble steeds of the purest race, fleet as the wind, a fine herd of fat cattle, and flocks of sheep. Do not despise these things.”

“Have I not said, Khan, that my daughter is to me more than armour or steeds?” replied Arslan Gherrei; “why then, talk we like children? My word is spoken – my daughter cannot be the bride of the Khan. Be not foolish, but take my message to your brother; and now Khan, speak no more on the subject. Refreshments are preparing for you ere you return, if you must needs use so much haste; but rather spend this night at my house, and by to-morrow’s dawn you shall depart, for I lead forth my few remaining followers against the foe, and must take my daughter to place her in safety with the family of our kinsman Aitek Tcherei. Stay then, till to-morrow, when you shall go in peace; and perchance the next time we meet, it will be on the battle-field against the Urus; for I have often been witness of your bravery, and many of your foes have I seen bite the dust.”

“I cannot stay; I must away with haste; I want not food, if such is the only answer, oh chief! that you can send my brother,” exclaimed the young noble with vehemence. “He will not brook such words as these. His soul will not tamely submit to this refusal. It is folly to think it. His offer was not made to be refused.”

“You speak words of folly, Khan; your brother is no child, that he should be angered at a thing like this,” replied the chief, gravely. “Your feelings carry away your judgment; wait, and you will think better on the subject to-morrow.”

“You little know my brother. He is now waiting, eager for the answer I must take, and I will not tarry to hear more of such words,” exclaimed the young Khan, still more angry than before. “My horse, Kiru!” turning to his squire. “Reach me my arms. Bring forth my horse. Order my followers to mount, and away.”

His squire, as desired, presented him with his gun and pistols, and hastened from the room to obey his orders, while the young Khan strode angrily and haughtily to the door, where he stood, foaming with rage, till his horse was brought forth. He then mounted, without offering the customary salute at parting to his noble host, who amazed, and vexed, at his want of knightly courtesy, and at his hot, irascible temper, re-entered his house.

Followed by his squire, and the retainers of his family, the enraged young noble galloped furiously along the flat terrace, till he reached the steep path on the mountain’s side, down which he continued his way, and along the bottom of the valley in the direction of the sea, keeping his course towards the north, along the coast.

Volume Two – Chapter Nine

Among the beetling crags of the high, dark, and rugged mountains, which surround the still more gigantic and terrific Elborous, is a deep glen, more wild and fearful than the many other fissures into which the mountains have been rent by some awful convulsion of nature, forming the only accessible approach to a wide bason, round which precipitous cliffs arise on every side. Their lofty and pointed summits are insurmountable, even by the wild goat or active chamois.

It appeared as if nature had formed the spot expressly to serve as a fortification for outlaws, as a dozen or twenty men could at all times defend the entrance from a host of foes. It was for this reason that the ancestors of the present occupier of the country had selected it as a spot on which to fix his abode, probably on account of his own lawless disposition, that he might sally forth from this strong hold, and commit forays on his neighbours, with a secure place to retire to with his booty, without fear of reprisal. Be that as it may, his descendants had followed constantly the same occupation; rushing down on the unguarded and unsuspecting villagers of the plains, carrying off their cattle, and seizing on themselves as slaves.

The first of the present race who inhabited this wild spot, was a Khan of high rank in Tartary; one of the many who escaped with the exiled King into the mountains of the Caucasus, when driven from his throne by the Russians under the grasping Catharine. There they were hospitably and joyfully received by the brave people from whose blood they had originally sprung; great numbers, therefore, settled in Abasia, and their followers adhering to them through good and evil, they thus formed powerful tribes in their new mountain homes.

From the marauding practices of the ancestor of Khoros Kaloret Khan, he was possessed of large herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, numerous slaves, and a breed of high-mettled steeds, from the stock which they had brought with them from Tartary. Thus possessed of abundance of wealth, he refrained from practices followed in more lawless times. He was at the head also of a numerous band of retainers, who obeyed him implicitly as their hereditary chief and master; so that besides his rank, he was a person of great consideration in the country, though perhaps more feared from his power to do evil, than loved for the benefits he conferred on his neighbours.

His temper, being uncontrolled, was fierce and violent, so that none of his retainers dared to disobey his slightest orders; yet they followed him willingly to battle, for he was, at the same time, a brave and skilful leader, and the Russians had often felt the power of his arm in his tremendous onslaughts. No sooner did they commence hostilities against the tribes of Caucasus, than his father, leading out his clansmen from their fastnesses, proved himself one of their most bitter and unceasing enemies. Deep and fierce was his revenge for the wrongs which Crim Tartary had endured at their hands.

Sending once some of his people to throw themselves in their way, in order to act as guides to them, he drew a large body among the fastnesses of the mountains, where, having lain in ambush, he set upon them with his followers, and slaughtered several hundreds on the spot. The others, attempting to take refuge among the caverns and rocks, were hunted like wild beasts. For several days did the savage chase continue; every avenue for their escape was so guarded, that none returned to tell the tale of their disasters. Those who were not taken and put to the sword, died of starvation among the barren mountains.

The young Khan and his brother had imbibed from their father the same bitter hostility towards their foes; but revenge ruled their breasts more than love for their adopted country; and the ungovernable and fiery temper of the elder, often led him to commit excesses, even among his own followers, of which his father was not guilty.

Such was the suitor for the hand of the gentle Ina; and though Arslan Gherrei loved him not, yet he was not fully acquainted with his real character; nor could he, without giving good reason, refuse his suit without a deadly insult, as he himself was descended, by his mother’s side, from the same race, though of a royal line.

The house of the chief, near which was erected a high watch-tower, was built directly facing the rocky defile leading to the green circular plain or bason before described, thus commanding a view of all who approached.

The Khan was pacing under the verandah in front of his house, in a state of violent excitement.

“See you any one coming?” he shouted to a page stationed on the summit of the watch-tower. “Why tarries my brother thus? Why sends he not messengers to announce the coming of my bride? Surely he would not fail to send, and give me time to meet the beauteous girl, with due honour, on the way. He is not wont to disobey my orders. See you none coming, slave?” he again vociferated. “See you none coming?”

“On my head be it, Khan, I see not one speck moving in the whole of the glen,” answered the page.

“Am I your Khan, that you hasten not?” he cried, to some attendants waiting at a little distance. “Do you, Zand, take the fleetest steed, and fly towards Ghelendjik for three hours, returning without delay; and see that you bring me tidings of my coming bride, or of my brother’s messengers.”

The man hastened to obey the order, the Khan continuing his irregular and agitated walk as before, every now and then turning his glance down the glen, then shouting to his watchman to learn if he had caught sight of any one approaching. The answer was as before. His impatience increased.

“Saddle me a steed, knaves – haste, fly. Am I not your Khan, that you make no better speed?”

A horse was quickly brought him; when, throwing himself into the saddle, he rode furiously down the dark ravine; but he soon returned, on the back of the panting animal, from the fruitless search.

His temper was not assuaged by his headlong and heating ride; as throwing the reins to a slave, who stood trembling to take his horse, he resumed his hurried walk in front of his dwelling.

Another hour passed, when the look-out man, on the watch-tower, gave notice that he saw a horseman coming up the glen. As he approached nearer, he proved to be only one of the messengers despatched in the morning, and he reported that he could gain no intelligence of any of the young Khan’s escort.

The shades of evening were beginning to throw a deep gloom into the glen, when the look-out man again cried that he saw a party of horsemen approaching.

The Khan instantly threw himself on a gaily caparisoned steed, preceded by his banner-bearer. His squire and pages followed, with the principal of his retainers, and galloped down the glen to meet the expected bride. What was his rage and disappointment when he did not see his brother’s towering form, or the white veil of the betrothed; but met, instead, the travel-worn and agitated band of retainers who had set out with him?

“Where is my brother, and where my bride?” he exclaimed, riding furiously towards them with his drawn scimitar uplifted. “Say, caitiffs, ere I slay you.”

“As Allah is great, we dare not say, Khan, where your brother is. We know not – we cannot speak,” answered the foremost of the party. “The fair daughter of the Uzden Arslan Gherrei is with her father.”

“What! does she not come with my brother? Speak, slaves; answer, I charge you,” cried the Khan.

“This only we know, Khan. On my head be it that I say truth,” replied the first speaker:

“The brother of the Khan parted from the Uzden Arslan Gherrei in anger, that he would not let his daughter come to be queen of our chief’s anderoon. We then travelled towards the castle of the Urus at Ghelendjik, where Besin Khan, taking with him only Kiru, ordered us to proceed a day’s journey, and then wait for him. For two days he came not. We waited a third, and we then went to search for him. We heard that there had been a bloody fight between some of the tribes on the coast and the Urus, and we thought our young Khan would not have been absent; but all, of whom we asked for news of him, turned aside, and would not answer. We then went to the shore, where the combat took place, and among heaps of the vile soldiers of the Urus, almost destroyed by the birds of prey and wild beasts, we found the sabre, which was our young master’s, broken, and his iron cap and his corslet, with a deep dent on its centre.”