XX: THE ESCAPE
I CROUCHED low in the wine-butt, that I might not be seen, and so saw nothing of the rioters, after that first glimpse. But, above my head, the red glare from their torches lighted the gloomy arches fitfully, and their figures cast gigantic black shadows on the walls. They rushed in, with a roar of triumph, and began to beat about for victims, and from their actions and their voices, I knew that they were already flushed with liquor and were as much in search of that as of imaginary traitors. A day of murder and of license had drawn to its close, and these men, gorged with blood and wine, were in a high good humour; they shouted to each other merrily, and roared with laughter because one of their number, more tipsy than the rest, began to fight his own shadow on the wall.
“Have at the rogue, Vasali!” they shouted derisively. “Cut the fellow to pieces.”
At which the sot cried thickly that he could not, the black devil danced as fast as he did! And he added a coarse volley of oaths which made his companions hold their sides with laughter.
But their mirth, horrible enough at best, was the more dangerous because it could be easily turnedinto fury, and I confess that beads of cold perspiration gathered on my forehead when I thought of the princess, only a few yards from them, and almost at their mercy, for my strength would be nothing against theirs, the puny strength of one man against six. From their talk and the sound of their movements I gathered that one of them had clambered up the steps to the door by which we had entered, and shaken it, but he was too far gone to perceive the cross bar and came toppling down again, swearing at his defeat, and fell across a cask that two others were rolling toward the other entrance, whereupon, the three fell to fighting, and in a moment, a wild scream and a thud told me that one drunken wretch had been sent to his last account. Then the others fell upon the wine-butts and began to roll them out to the stone steps, crying that they would have a fête in the Red Place and drink the health of the Czarevitch Ivan and Sophia Alexeievna. But at the steps they got into difficulties, for as fast as they rolled a great cask up, it rolled back on the drunken fools and then they fought each other.
The red light streamed up overhead and played wildly on the dark arches, and the smoke of their torches floated up too, in black wreaths, and hung there, dim and ghostly, while these demons quarrelled and screamed, merry and murderous by turns, and time seemed eternity. Then they got one caskup and doubtless opened it at once and began to drink, for I heard their wild satisfaction after tasting it; they came howling down again for another cask, and a repetition of the scene at the steps.
“Out with the wine!” cried one of the ringleaders, “out with every cask. By our Lady of Kazan, we will be merry!”
At this, I knew our fate was certain if we lingered where we were, for the wine had drawn other mutineers, as it draws flies, and the smell of it—poured out upon the ground—reeked with the smell of blood already spilled there.
Lifting my head cautiously, I peeped over the ledge of my butt and saw the red torches planted in the earth and flaring upward. I saw, too, the dead body of the soldier who had been stabbed on the cask, and yet another lay dead at the threshold, while his comrades trampled on him as they rolled out the hogsheads. I waited and listened with bated breath. The same struggle occurred, the same mishaps, and then they got a great butt up and rolled it away into the court-yard, and they all poured out of the cellar after it, screaming and fighting, and left only the dead and the two torches, burning low now, and smoking. At the door it was dark, beyond it I heard them begin to sing—or rather bellow—a Tartar war song. Then I sprang out of my hiding-place and touched the princess on the shoulder.
“Quick,” I whispered; “there is one chance in ten thousand! To stay is death!”
She had been crouching low, but she rose at my voice and I saw her face, in the red torchlight absolutely pale, but still and almost emotionless. I think she had borne so much that it seemed now like a hideous dream. She let me lift her out of her hiding-place, and when I would have carried her she slipped to the ground.
“Nay,” she whispered, “we can fly faster so,” and she followed me toward the door, though I saw her shudder at the sight of the dead man on the threshold.
I snatched the torches and crushed their fire out on the ground, and then I lifted her over the body and we stood on the steps. Not twenty yards away other lights streamed, where the rioters were drinking at the cask and singing wildly, multiplied now from ten to thirty; the red glare on their cruel faces and blood-stained arms showed them sharply outlined against the night. Happily we were in the shadow, and I took Daria’s hand and led her swiftly up the steps and away, along the walls of the palace, into the darkness beyond. I had to tread cautiously, for it was hard to see and, at any moment, we might stumble on another party. We had, perhaps, fifteen or eighteen yards to go before we could turn a corner and, at any moment, the torchlight might be thrown upon us. Nothing could have been wilder than the scene; that bloody,fiery group shown in the night, as if the gate of the infernal regions gaped to show us the imps at carnival, and about them the pitch of the pit. Once the princess slipped and clung to my arm with a low exclamation, for she knew what had made the ground slippery, and she saw a dark, still thing close at her feet. But I hurried her on and, at last, we turned the corner, and were in a still place alone. But there was even then no time for thankfulness; I urged her on, and we fled swiftly out of sight of the palace, past the cathedrals; on and on—and the soft night air, fanning our faces, revived us both. Twice or thrice we had to turn aside to avoid a party of Streltsi bearing torches, and once more we nearly fell across a corpse, but at last we left the Red Place—the place of blood—behind us, and were walking rapidly toward my quarters. It was then that she stopped and drew a long breath of relief, and I stopped too, fearing her strength had failed her at last, or her resolution, but it was neither the one nor the other. She was still thinking of her father.
“Let me go home,” she said, in a low voice; “yonder is the way—you pass it, sir, and I must find my father!”
“I pass it, yes, madame,” I said gravely and, perhaps, sternly; “I pass it because it would be murder to take you there. Think you they have not gone before us?”
“The Streltsi!” She gasped a little, and seemed irresolute; but then all a woman’s obstinacy came upon her and, too, in spite of her words, I felt she did not trust me.
“I must go there!” she cried desperately.
I had not the heart to forbid her; indeed, I was minded to let her see that I knew best, and profit by the lesson. Without another word, therefore, I turned and led her toward the Voronin palace. As I have said, the street that led to it ran straight toward the Iberian Chapel, and showed the house plainly from a distance, and no sooner did we enter this street than she stopped with a low cry of dismay. The palace of Prince Voronin stood there, revealed in the night by the blaze of fifty torches and lighted, too, within, from roof to cellar, and even at this distance we heard the cry of the spoiler. She stood rooted to the ground, staring at it in such apparent anguish that a horrid thought occurred to me.
“Where is the child—your cousin—Vassalissa?” I exclaimed involuntarily.
She crossed herself devoutly. “Safe, thanks be to the Virgin! she went early this morning to Troïtsa, with her mother’s sister on a pilgrimage—for me.”
“Come, then,” I said briefly. “Will you trust me now, Mme. la Princesse?”
I think she was ashamed of her wilfulness, for she followed me without a word, and we turned aside and,by lanes and byways, reached Le Bastien’s house. It was, as I expected, dark and deserted, and therefore a safer refuge, for the time, and I fumbled in my pocket, got a key, and, opening the door, let her into the silent place. It took but a moment to secure the entrance behind us; a fir-splint burnt in the cresset, and from it I lighted a taper, and then I led her into one of the lower rooms, saw that the shutters were secure, lighted more tapers, and drawing a chair forward, begged her to be seated. She obeyed me silently, and as she sat there I saw the pale and haggard look on her face. Going quickly to my own room, I cast off Kurakin’s petticoats, and arraying myself in my own clothes, went to the kitchen and procured some vodka and a little bread and, returning, bade her eat and drink in a voice of command; for I saw that she must do both or fail altogether; yet, at first, she put both the glass and the food away, crying out that she could not eat.
“Very well, madame,” I said; “then you cannot go to your father, nor can he come to you, for your strength is spent. Nay, take it,” I added kindly, “as you take the physician’s draught.”
She obeyed me mechanically, and her eyes followed me as I poured out some of the liquor and drank it and ate the bread also, for I had need to break my fast. And, as I did it, the thought came to me suddenly that this was our bridal banquet, andthat my wife and I ate together for the first time. Involuntarily I looked at her and found her large eyes fixed upon my face. Something of the same thought must have entered her mind too, for suddenly she dropped her face on her hands and I saw her very ears—little, shell-like ears, too—turn rosy-red, and her whole delicate frame shook, from head to foot, with a hard sob—of anguish or of terror, I knew not which.