Their host, Shamiz Bey, with most of the warlike inhabitants of the neighbourhood, was compelled to remain to guard that part of the country threatened by the garrison of Ghelendjik, it being considered a point of honour for every district to protect itself against the foe, except from an overwhelming force.
A large body of horsemen were, however, collected, many chiefs having come to greet the renowned Hadji on his return from his pilgrimage, to congratulate Arslan Gherrei on the recovery of his long lost son, and to welcome Selem to his native land.
Their journey was like a triumphant procession. From every hamlet through which they passed, the inhabitants rushed out to congratulate the warriors on their victory; the fame of their exploit having already preceded them. The villagers made their admiring comments, not less on the dignified and noble Arslan Gherrei and his son, than on his lovely daughter; and the stranger Pole was hailed as another champion added to their country’s cause. The minstrels struck their harps to strains of triumph, joined by the voices of the maidens. The wild youths, galloping on before, fired off salvos from their rifles, which were answered by others from the hamlets discharging theirs in return, as they threw themselves on their ready-saddled steeds, and flew to join the festive cortège. The green banks, sloping down from the villages, were covered with old men, women, and children, joining their voices to the general shout which welcomed the party, wherever they appeared. The Hadji’s name sounding above all.
Sometimes the cavalcade would halt to salute some aged chieftain, unable longer to join in the hardships of war, who had caused himself to be carried out to meet them, and to hear from their own mouths, an account of their late exploit. The eye of the now decrepit warrior would kindle, and his cheek burn with enthusiasm, as he listened to the tale; or his voice would tremble, and a tear of regret roll down his furrowed cheek, that he was no longer capable of participating in the glories and dangers of war. So often had they to stop, and so many questions had they to answer, that it was late in the day before they could reach their resting-place for the night; and happy was the chief, whom they had chosen as their Tocav, to receive such distinguished guests.
Their route on the next day’s journey, lay along the base of the far-extended line of the black mountains; when towering high above his brethren, appeared the lofty Elborous, dark, rugged, and precipitous. The cavalcade traversed a savage glen, overhung by beetling cliffs, seeming ready to fall on their heads. The light was subdued and gloomy; and the air was moist and heavy from the water which trickled down over the moss-covered rocks. An oppressive feeling overcame all the party—a foreboding of coming evil. Dangers in unknown shapes seemed to threaten them. Even the Hadji’s joyful tone was quelled; a chill fell on his spirits. He cast a fond and anxious glance at his son Alp, as, for a moment, the dangers to which he was about to expose him, crossed his mind.
“Why are you so silent, my sister?” said Selem, as he rode by Ina’s side; “why does that shade of sadness steal over a face, but now so bright with smiles?”
“I scarce know, Selem, why I am sad,” returned the fair girl; “but I thought of the dangers our noble father is constantly exposed to; that you, my newly found brother, may again be torn from me; that you must live a life of constant hardship and warfare. I thought of the miseries of our country—our homes and fields burned, our fathers and brothers slain, and that Allah should have created men wicked enough to do these things. Tell me, my brother, why do the Urus attack our country? why do they try to possess themselves of our humble cots and rocky mountains, when they have abundance of land covered with mighty cities?”
“The lust of power, of conquest, such as you can have no conception of,” replied Selem. “They care little to possess our mountain-homes, and nothing for the noble hearts, whose blood they spill. What, to their deaf ears, are the cries of the orphan, the moans of the bereaved widow? There are rich and fair lands beyond our’s, in which they would set their grasp, could they reach them, to add to their already vast territories, peopled by slaves. But they fear to advance, leaving behind them one spot of unconquered ground, such as our own land, lest we might impede them on their return home, laden with booty. We are like a castle in a plain, overrun with marauders, which, as long as provisions last, may withstand a host of such foes; so shall we, as long as true and brave hearts beat in Circassia. But now, Ina, banish such sad thoughts; see, we have gained a bright and joyous scene.”
As Selem spoke, they emerged from the dark ravine, into a broad and extensive valley; so broad, indeed, as almost to be called a plain. It was surrounded by mountains, rising gradually in slopes or bosomy swells, to form the sides of the vast amphitheatre. Green pastures and corn fields, interspersed with clumps of fine trees, enriched its surface, which was further adorned by cottages, surrounded by orchards, farm-yards, paddocks, and granaries.
“See, Ina,” exclaimed her brother, enthusiastically; “let not your spirits sink with forebodings, for we have passed in safety through that savage glen: and now what a lovely scene has opened to our view! So may it be with our country. We yet may see bright and glorious days shine on Circassia, when freed from the dark wing of the Russian eagle.”