An adventure that lately happened to a friend of mine will show the manner in which Ghegs remember a good service rendered them. Some years ago, a few Albanians, personally known to the gentleman in question, who owns a large estate in Macedonia, heard that three of their fellow-countrymen had got into trouble. Through the influence Mr. A. possessed with the local authorities, their release was obtained. The incident had almost passed out of his memory when it was unexpectedly recalled at a critical moment. Some Albanian beys, who had a spite against Mr. A., in consequence of a disputed portion of land, resolved to take advantage of the present state of anarchy and disorder in the country to have him or his son assassinated the next time either of them should visit the estate. The villanous scheme was intrusted to a band of Albanian brigands that were known to be lurking in the vicinity of Mr. A.’s estate. At harvest-time, as he was about to start for the country, he received a crumpled dirty little epistle, written in the Greek-Albanian dialect, to this effect:—
“Much esteemed Effendi, and venerated benefactor:
“Some years ago your most humble servant and his companions were in difficulties. You saved them from prison and perhaps from the halter. The service has never been forgotten, and the debt we owe to you will be shortly redeemed by my informing you that the robber band of Albanians in the vicinity of your chiftlik have received instructions and have accepted the task of shooting you down the first time you come in this direction. I and my valiant men will be on the look-out to prevent the event if possible, but we warn you to be on your guard, for your life is in danger.
“Kissing your hand respectfully,
“I sign myself,
“A MEMBER OF THE VERY BAND!”
Another friend related to me a strange adventure he had with an Albanian ex-brigand, who for some time had been in his service. This gentleman was a millionaire of the town of P., who in his younger days often collected the tithes of his whole district, and consequently had occasion to travel far into the interior and bring back with him large sums of money. During these tours the faithful Albanian never failed to accompany his master. On one occasion, however, when they had penetrated into the wildest part of his jurisdiction, his servant walked into the room where he was seated, and after making his temenla, or salute, said, “Chorbadji, I shall leave you; therefore I have come to say to you Allah ’semarladu (good-by).”
“Why,” said the astonished gentleman, “what is to become of me in this outlandish place without you?”
“Oh,” was the response, “I leave you because I have consented to attack and rob you, and as such an act would be cowardly and treacherous while I eat your bread and salt, I give you notice that I mean to do it on the highway as you return home, so take what precautions you like, that it may be fair play between us.” This said, he made a second temenla and disappeared.
He was as good as his word; going back to his former profession, he soon found out and joined a band of brigands, and at their head waylaid and attacked his former master, who, well aware of the character of the man he had to deal with and the dangers that awaited him, had taken measures accordingly and provided himself with an escort strong enough to overpower the brigands.