Story 11--Chapter IV.
’Renzo was one day on his way over the mountains to visit Chiarina, when before him appeared the barrels of three or four rifles, and a voice in an authoritative tone ordered him to stop. As he knew that rifle bullets were apt to travel faster than he could run, he obeyed, and presently, found himself in the hands of a party of especially savage-looking bandits.
After proceeding for a couple of leagues or more, ’Renzo found himself in a wild rugged part of the mountains, into which, though so near his home, he had never penetrated. Here a large band of ragamuffins were collected, all armed; to the teeth, some of them being peasants whom he knew by sight. He was welcomed by name as a future comrade.
“Your comrade, indeed! I will be the comrade only of honest men,” he answered boldly.
At this reply there was a laugh.
“We’ll see what persuasions our brave chief, Giuseppe Greco, can employ,” exclaimed one of the band.
“He our chief? What do you mean, Oca? Our chief is Ninco Nanco, and no one else,” cried another.
“Then he should show himself,—he may be dead, or captured, for what we know,” said a third.
“We want a clever leader, like Greco, who can at will increase the number of the band, and lay the whole country under contribution.”
“Who will bring traitors among us, and make enemies on every side,” muttered an old brigand, who had followed the craft from his earliest days.
From all he heard ’Renzo knew that there was a division in the camp of the brigands, and soon ascertained that Greco was plotting to depose his absent chief. This was satisfactory, as he hoped it might be the means of breaking up the confederacy. It did not make him the less anxious to effect his escape. In vain he watched for an opportunity all night.
The next day the band moved some leagues farther to the east. He found himself strictly guarded, but not otherwise ill-treated; while his companions used every means to impress him with the pleasures and advantages of the life they led.
“I confess I do not perceive them,” he answered. “You have to live up in the mountains; often like wild beasts, hunted from spot to spot. Your fare is coarse, and often scanty. Every day you run a chance of being shot. If taken, you will be hung, or sent to the galleys for life; and, without scruple, you kill your fellow-creatures, if they attempt to defend their property.”
“Make the fellow hold his tongue,” cried a voice near them; it was that of Greco, who had approached unperceived. “We must induce you to change your mind, friend ’Renzo,” he remarked. “I want a sturdy fellow like you as a lieutenant.”
Greco was doing his utmost to increase the number of the band, hoping thus to overpower the adherents of Ninco Nanco. Small parties were constantly sent out, therefore, who returned either with prisoners, or recruits as they were called, or some booty and provisions. What was poor ’Renzo’s grief and horror when, one day, he saw Marco Maffei, the father of his dear Chiarina, brought in a prisoner, mounted on his mule! He looked pale and alarmed. Greco seemed highly satisfied at seeing him.
“Ah! ah!” he exclaimed, “you refused me your daughter in honourable marriage three years ago. I have waited ever since then to be revenged on you, and now I have the opportunity.”
The band was at this time collected in a hollow, with rocks and trees around, effectually concealing its members from the world beyond. The only approach was by the pathway up which Marco had been led.
“Now, friend ’Renzo, the moment has arrived to decide whether you will become one of us!” exclaimed Greco, in a harsh tone. “I want yonder old man put out of the world—to you I award the task.”
’Renzo’s heart sank within him. He resolved, however, to make every effort to save the life of his old friend. He pleaded and argued. He might as well have talked to the surrounding rocks.
“Give him a rifle,” at length exclaimed Greco, losing patience. “See that you use it as I direct.”
’Renzo took the weapon, and ascertained that it was loaded properly. The old man had been allowed to sit on his mule. ’Renzo approached him.
“Friend, forgive me for the deed I am compelled to commit,” he said aloud; then he hurriedly whispered, “I will draw off the attention of the villains, and, as I do so, dash down the mountain. Your beast is trusty, and will not fall.”
Once more he retired nearer to Greco, and again pleaded earnestly for the old man’s life.
“Fire!” cried Greco, stamping on the ground.
“Ay, I will!” exclaimed ’Renzo, swinging himself round so as to cover the would-be chief of the band.
At that moment a report from another quarter was beard—a bullet whistled through the air, and Greco fell, shot through the head.
“Fly, father, fly!” cried ’Renzo, springing towards Marco, and urging on his mule.
The unexpected appearance of Ninco Nanco himself, who leaped down from the rocks among them with three well-armed followers, drew off the attention of the brigands from ’Renzo’s proceedings. Those who had openly sided with Greco grasped their weapons, expecting to have to fight for their lives.
“Nonsense! No fighting among friends,” said Ninco Nanco. “I heard of all that fellow was doing, and have settled scores with him pretty sharply. In future you’ll all follow my orders.”
Loud vivas greeted this address, and it was not for some minutes that the brigands discovered that their prisoners had fled. Some proposed following them.
“No, no! To the old man I owe a debt; it were an ill way of paying it if I slew him,” exclaimed Ninco Nanco. “Though I love not the other, I can afford to be generous, and so let him go also. I can trust them. They dare not betray us.”
This act of the chiefs was looked upon as the very acme of heroic generosity; and certainly nothing more worthy of praise has been recorded of Ninco Nanco, the Brigand.
Having inspired the inhabitants of the surrounding districts with a wholesome terror of his name, Ninco Nanco soon discovered that the easiest way of collecting his revenue was to write a letter to any wealthy proprietor he might fix on, demanding the sum required, or horses, or provisions, as the case might be; and he seldom, fails to obtain what he demands.
Marco and ’Renzo reached home safely, when Chiarina, who had been almost heart-broken at their absence, in the exuberance of her joy at their return, threw herself into the arms of her father, and then into those of ’Renzo, quite forgetting all rules of propriety.
The young couple married soon afterwards; and, if they are not perfectly happy, it is that they dread lest Ninco Nanco should some day pounce down on them, and insist on ’Renzo joining his band. They, therefore, very reasonably hope to hear some day that that gentleman has been shot, or hung, or sent to the galleys, or has been induced to accept a situation under the Government, or been disposed of in some no less satisfactory manner.