The chiefs cast inquiring looks at Selem, and when Arslan Gherrei proudly introduced him as his son, relating his romantic history and recent exploits, loud shouts hailed him as a chief of Circassia. His heart beat with pride at having acquired that glorious appellation, as his brother warriors came forward to grasp his hand in welcome.
Their followers assembled under a grove of lofty trees near the river; a few minutes only elapsed since their arrival at the spot, before their tents were erected and every arrangement made for their accommodation.
Selem then accompanied his father through the encampment, to learn the proceedings and intentions of the leaders. Various plans of operations had been discussed; but, unfortunately, unanimity did not reign in their councils as to the best mode of proceeding.—The most sagacious were, however, for preventing the large Russian army, which threatened them, from advancing into the interior, without expending their strength in minor exploits: but others were for making excursions into the country of the Cossacks at unguarded posts, while the enemy were elsewhere engaged, and some were for at once storming the Russian forts. Selem saw with grief and pain the sad want of organisation in an army capable, if well directed, of driving back their foes to their own bleak steppes. But they were destitute of artillery and ammunition; and he saw too clearly that no great object could be attained beyond the strict defence of their native mountains. Yet, without some object in view, that vast multitude, unaccustomed to any combined movement, would soon be weary of restraint, and might, in a few hours, melt away like snow before the rays of the sun, and return to their own homes. They required some chief of superior talents, whom all would acknowledge as their commander, to lead them to war; and they would then become invincible. This want their invaders well knew, and reckoned on accordingly.
The next morning the sun rose with unclouded splendour over the beautiful valley of the Ubin, cheering the hearts of the assembled warriors with an omen of success. It was the day appointed for a solemn ceremony to take place, namely, the administering an oath, which all the princes, nobles, and leaders of Circassia had agreed to take, never to sheathe their swords, or make terms with the enemy, till he had retired from the neighbourhood of their country; and to sink in oblivion all ancient feuds and animosities among themselves. Many chiefs had already bound themselves by this agreement; but the majority had hitherto kept aloof from taking the oath, as it not only forbade them ever making terms with their foes, but involved the necessity of restoring all property unjustly retained from their countrymen.
Contiguous to the camp was a quiet and sequestered dell, with green hills rising close around it, and filled by a grove of lofty and venerable trees: a spot looked upon as sacred from time immemorial. In an open glade, in the centre of the grove, stood the mouldering remains of a stone cross, near which, where the lofty trees threw their cool shadows, now assembled hundreds of noble warrior chiefs. One sentiment, one soul, animated the breasts of all—the most deadly hatred to their foes, and a determination to resist to the very last gasp. Every one of the various tribes and bands, which composed the patriot army, here sent a representative to swear in their name, and to confer on measures for the general advantage.
As the princes, nobles, and leaders arrived, they took their seats on the green turf, when, all being assembled, a chief arose from the circle, and advanced towards the centre. His white turban, his long robes, his hoary locks and flowing beard, bespoke his sacred character. In his hands he held a book, which he raised aloft, as he knelt before the cross, and offered up to the all-potent and all-omniscient Being, whom every one present worshipped—whatever their other differences of creed might be—a prayer for the success of the sacred cause of liberty, and for the confusion of their tyrannical foes. Every warrior, bowing his head, reverently responded “Amen!” as the venerable sage ceased his prayer. Still holding the book before him, he rose, and, with a voice, yet deep and sonorous, though at times trembling with age, he exclaimed:—
“Noble warriors, chiefs of Circassia—we have this day assembled for a great, for a righteous purpose. It is to bind ourselves, by a solemn compact, to exert all the energies of our souls and bodies to drive hence the fell invaders of our country. Never to sheathe our swords while a foe to Circassia exists near her borders; to sink all private feelings of animosity, and to offer the hand of love and fellowship to all who will join us in this sacred cause. I call on all present to come forward, and to swear on the sacred book I hold, to conquer or die for our country, and to shew the world, what a brave band of brothers, though few in numbers compared to the vast hordes of our opponents, can do for the cause of liberty.”
As he finished his address, one of the most influential of the Princes of the Attèghèi advanced, and, reverently kneeling, kissed the book, and took the required oath. His example was followed by others, till the enthusiasm became general, and all rushed eagerly forward to sign the compact. As they took the oath, they formed in circles, grasping each other’s hands, in token of their brotherhood. Those who had never before met, except with their hands on the hilts of their swords, now joined them in the pressure of love and fellowship; and the ardent wish of all, was to be led at once against the common foe.
Many, who had arrived too late for the opening of the ceremony, hastened forward from all directions to swear eternal enmity to the Russians. The aged judge again knelt, when all had subscribed the oath, to return thanks to heaven for the concord which reigned throughout the band of patriots; and, as the sacred ceremony concluded, loud shouts rent the air, from the vast concourse of warriors who covered the sides of the hills, and every woodland glade. Had any Russian spy been present, he might have warned his countrymen of the hopelessness of success, in their nefarious attempt to subjugate so resolute a people.