“Said you not, Armenian, that you were a man of peace, and a friend to the Attèghèi?” demanded the chief of the village, who acted as president. “See that you have not spoken lies, and proved that you are a friend of our enemies. Answer this one question: where went you last night?”
“Where went I?” tremblingly echoed the Armenian. “I went forth from the house of my good konag, to cool my brow after the heat of the day. Surely I went no where beyond the hamlet.”
“Oh thou son of the evil one! Think you to elude our vigilance? Answer truly, or you die on the spot. Why went you to the camp of our enemies?”
“Oh! spare my life, noble chiefs!” cried the Armenian, falling on his knees. “I am but a poor trader, and I went but to sell my goods. Oh slay me not, valiant nobles!”
“Do you not know that it is prohibited to have any dealings with the enemy?” said the president. “And of what use are such goods as you carry to the Urus? But you are full of lies. You went without your goods, secretly, and by night. You know the enemy’s password. You were seen to enter their fort, and shortly after to return. Your own words condemn you. What say you, Uzdens?” turning to the other judges, “has the Armenian proved himself to be innocent, or is he guilty?”
The chiefs, all standing up, pronounced the solemn words of the wretch’s doom—
“He is guilty: let him die the death of a spy.”
The miserable being had not a word to plead in his own defence; but loudly crying for mercy, he lifted up his hands in an imploring attitude; for well he knew the dreadful fate prepared for him. The stern warriors relaxed not their features as they motioned to the attendants to lead him away. His crime was of the greatest magnitude, and no mercy could be granted him; not a voice spoke in his favour; not an eye turned with pity towards him.
At some distance from the hamlet was a lofty and perpendicular cliff, at whose base, over a rough rocky bed, roared a foaming and rapid torrent. The wretched Armenian, without any further delay, was dragged up a steep pathway to the summit of the cliff, where, by order of the Hadji, he was stripped of his high Astracan fur cap, his dark robe, and the appurtenances of his trade, and then led, shrieking, forward, to the edge of the precipice. As he thus saw his dreadful fate approaching, he screamed loudly for mercy and pardon; but his cries fell on the ears of those whom a fierce exterminating war had rendered deaf to pity for their cruel foes.
As he stood, shivering with terror, on the very edge of the frightful chasm, in a last fit of desperation, he seized hold of those who stood near, endeavouring to drag them down with him; but his hands were torn from their hold; and two powerful slaves, appointed as his executioners, lifting him from the ground, hurled him, with tremendous exertion, far over the edge of the cliff. A last shriek of despairing agony alone escaped him, as he fell headlong into the dark abyss, grasping at the empty air, and seeking to find some hold to prolong life, even for a few moments. So deep was the chasm, that not a sound was heard, as he struck the shallow and rocky bed of the stream; and its waters whirled the mangled frame far out of sight.