An Observer in the Near East

by William Le Queux

I returned his greeting, whereupon the whole crowd of us walked along to a spot where a cauldron was standing upon a wood fire, and out of it my host, myself, and Palok had pieces of boiled chicken and rice, which had specially been prepared for my coming.

The object of this meal, I afterwards learnt, was to cement our friendship. The Albanian code of honour is astounding, even to our Western ideas. A word once given by those savage tribes is never broken, and if the stranger eats the food of the Skreli, even though he may be an enemy, his person is sacred for twenty-four hours afterwards. While the food remains undigested he may not be injured or captured.

And so while I ate with this wild chieftain, his band squatted round, apparently discussing me.

It was probably the first time they had seen an Englishman, Palok explained, and they were at first inclined to regard me as a secret agent of the Government, until later that afternoon their chief assured them to the contrary.

Then that wild horde became, to a man, my devoted servants.

Vatt Marashi, Chief of the Skreli tribe.

Vatt, the Baryaktar (from the Turkish bairakdar, or standard-bearer), unlike most Albanians, is fair-haired, above the average height, extremely muscular, with a constant smile of hearty good-fellowship. His eyes are fierce and barbaric; nevertheless he is pleasant of countenance, and I certainly found him, from first to last, a staunch and excellent friend.

Lord of those wild, rugged mountains, his word was obeyed with a precision that amazed me. A striking figure he presented as, with me, he marched at head of his bodyguard, his chest thrown out proudly, his head up, his keen eyes ever searching forward like every Albanian of the hills, one of the wildest rulers of wildest Europe.

On every side, as we went forward to the tiny cluster of little houses that formed the village where I was to be quartered, were bare grey limestone rocks without a single blade of grass, a desolate mountain region into which no foreigner had penetrated save when captured and held to ransom. Through centuries have that same tribe ruled that barren land, and no conqueror of Albania has ever succeeded in ousting them.