“They are used to it,” protested the Greek. “They have never known better. They are proof against marsh fever, too.” He paused an instant, then added: “I have just learned that the wines I have ordered sent you, have on each occasion been returned to the commissariat.”
Gordon’s gaze had followed the other’s. The food spread there was of the meanest: goat’s meat, coarse peasant’s bread, a pitcher of sour cider. He was fighting back a vertigo that had been misting his eyes.
“My table costs me exactly forty-five paras. That is the allowance of each Greek soldier. I shall live as they live, Prince, no worse, no better.”
His voice broke off. He reeled. Mavrocordato sprang and threw an arm about him. Pietro hastened to send Fletcher to the improvised hospital for the physicians.
They came hastily, to find Gordon in a convulsion of fearful strength, though it lasted but a moment. Leeches were put to his temples and consciousness returned. He opened his eyes upon an anxious group of surgeons and staff-officers.
A commotion arose at the instant from the courtyard. Mavrocordato stepped to the window. He made an exclamation. The place was filling with Suliotes—they were dragging its two cannon from their stations and turning their muzzles against the doors.
An orderly burst into the room. “They are seizing the arsenal!” he cried.
With an oath a Swedish officer leaped down the stair, drawing his sword as he ran. He fell stunned by the blow of a musket-butt.
Wild figures, their faces and splendid attire splashed with mud, gushed in, choked the stairway, and poured into the narrow apartment—to waver and halt abruptly, abashed.
This was not what Trevanion had craftily told them of—not the abode of soft luxury and gem-hung magnificence affected by the foreign archistrategos whose wealth was limitless and who sipped wines of liquid pearls, while they, their payments in arrears, drank sharp raisin-juice. What they saw was at strange variance with this picture. A chill stone chamber, a meager repast, uncarpeted floors. A handful of men, each with a drawn sword. These—and a form stretched on a rough mattress, an ensanguined bandage about his forehead, a single gray-haired servant kneeling by his side.