"Since the days of Marco Sciarra, such outrages as these have been matters of daily occurrence in our mountain provinces," replied the cavalier. "These villains have probably been foraging in the valley; and desolation and death invariably attend resistance. But, perhaps, the villagers may have been guilty of some disloyalty to our cause, and have thus brought upon them the vengeance of Francatripa; who is one of Carolina's robber-knights, and by her authority bears the rank of colonel. Alas! signor, you see how war calls forth all the worst traits of the Calabrian character. When I look on these things, I blush that I am an Italian."
"Truly," said I, "we have seen some things which make me suppose that there is more of truth than malice in the old Italian proverb applied to the Neapolitan people."
"Naples is a paradise inhabited by devils!" replied Marco. "Ha! I fought a Tuscan on the ramparts of Valetta one morning, for uttering that impertinent saying."
On reaching the hamlet we found the greater number of the cottages burned down; and the only answers our inquiries received were, "the king of the forest, Francatripa—the hunchback—the devil!"
A man warned us not to proceed, for the banditti were still hovering about; but as only one pass of the mountains lay between us and Maida, we determined to push forward at all risks. After examining our girths and pistol-locks, we dashed at a gallop into a gorge of the hills, which seemed doubly dark after leaving the blaze of the burning hamlet; being also deprived of the moon, whose light was intercepted by a gigantic peak of the Apennines.
The hoofs of our galloping horses alone broke the stillness around us, until we had reached the centre of the pass, or chasm, where the frowning cliffs arose on each side like sable walls; their summits, in some places, overhanging the base: when, hark! the shrill blast of a Calabrian horn, waking the echoes of that dismal hollow, caused us to rein suddenly up and prepare for action. As the reverberations of the horn died away, a glare of crimson light burst through the gloom: it burned steadily, increasing in radiance and splendour, tinging hill and rock, the forms of ourselves and horses, with the hue of blood, and shedding over the whole landscape, woodland, hill and hollow, the same sanguine tint. This effect, at any other time, or under other circumstances, we should have admired; as it was, our lives were in jeopardy, and delight gave place to apprehension.
An enormous red light, blazing on a pinnacle of rock, distinctly revealed our position and appearance to a horde of banditti, in conical hats or long blue caps and gay parti-coloured garments, who swarmed on the cliffs above and around us, barring advance or retreat, with their levelled rifles.
"Basta!" exclaimed Castelermo, his voice faltering with shame and chagrin. "O! for thirty cavaliers of John de Valette, or old L'Isle Adam! Must we yield—and to wretches such as these?"
"Surrender or die!" I replied, considerably excited: "the path is open before us; but we should assuredly be blown to pieces before we had moved a horse's length."
We were immediately surrounded, and peremptorily commanded to dismount. I saw how the fierce spirit of my companion blazed up within him as he obeyed the order; and my own indignation was not less. Our swords were next demanded; and, knowing the futility of resistance, I submitted to be deprived of my sabre and despatches.