# The Vintage/Part 3/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
PRIVATE NICHOLAS VIDALIS
Berore September was a week old the Mainat corps, with Petrobey and the prince, were back at Tripoli. The course events had taken at Monemvasia had inclined the latter again to the side of the primates, for he interpreted the attitude and action of the army with regard to the capitulation of the place as an insult levelled at him. Germanos was not long in perceiving this; but being acute enough to see that the prince's authority was just now naught but a paper sceptre, he reasoned that his friendship was equally valueless, unless he could manage to rescue for him a few rags of the authority of which he had, by his own folly, denuded himself. In any case the support of the primates was a prop to the prince, and as the power of the primates varied in inverse ratio to that of the military commanders, Germanos set to work again to discredit them with the troops. There it was that the strength of the revolution was beginning to lie—not in the prince, who could not command others, nor in the senate, which was unable to command itself, but in the people and the soldiers, who now for more than four months had waited for the fall of the city, still obedient to many utterly incompetent captains, and still steadfast in their watchings on the hills. And Germanos's subtle brain, spinning threads out of itself like a spider, was busy to catch the army, while in the end the army, like ​some great blundering bee, burst unheeding through his palace of silk, and left him angrily hungry and in ruins.
The tales of slander went on, and another captain was detected in his infamous traffic with the besieged. It was certain also that provisions were being sold to the men within the walls, for one night a Turk was captured outside, and to save his life, confessed that the besieged were supphed at starvation rates with bread and fresh meat. Upon this second detection Petrobey gave notice that if another case occurred the offender would be shot, and the night sentries were doubled. But whether the treason was more wide-spread than they feared and the sentries were bribed, or whether the traitors were cunning enough to elude them, never came to light; but more evidence was found that the traffic still went on, and one day, at a mecting of the senate, Germanos rose and denounced the whole body of officers.
"The siege still drags on," he said, "and where are the preparations to bring it to a conclusion? In the name of patriotism, I ask, Where? To whose advantage is it that all these men are kept here from their homes and their work, when the grapes are already growing ripe for the gathering, and there is none to gather them, but only the birds? Is it the men who prefer to stop here in these kennels, roasted under the mid-day sun, and doing tedious hours of drill? Is it to the advantage of the primates that we remain here, while our churches stand empty and the tithes are remitted? Is it the most noble Prince Demetrius who detains the army on this inhospitable mountain? The reason is not far to seek. Who was it who was found trafficking with Abdul Achmet for the safety of the Turk and his harem, if not one of these captains? Who was it but another of his class who, last week only, was detected in the same treasonable business? ​Who is it now who is selling, as you all very well know, provisions to the besieged at rates which make a man soon rich? To whose advantage is it that we linger here, while within the town the Turk lives at ease and knows no lack, being sure no attack will be made, and only waiting till these infamous men are satisfied? The siege of Tripoli is this called? There has never been any such thing. This is the market-place of Tripoli—a busy, profitable market; and the men who bring their country produce for sale are none other than the captains of the army. In particular, there is one among them who might have brought the siege to an end six weeks before, had he wished. While the most noble prince—whose eyes I feel it my duty to open on this point—was, and is, with us, the captains have the excuse that his authority is over them, that without his consent they can do nothing. Very sedulous, no doubt, are their efforts to obtain his consent. Yet there is a speciousness about such an excuse, and we will leave it. But during the whole month of August Prince Demetrius was not with us, and Nicholas Vidalis was supreme here. I ask him, therefore, before you all, why, if he is an honest man, he did not attempt to take the town?"
Several times during this speech an angry murmur went up from the military section of the senate, but Nicholas more than once rose to his feet and quieted them with an uplifted hand. He himself listened attentively with a smile on his face, and when Germanos alluded to his honesty he laughed aloud. For ever since Mitsos had told him the story of his own part in the war, unsuspected by all, and only divulged when necessity drove—of his silent, boyish heroism, his uncalculating elimination of self—Nicholas had been privy to a secret shame at his own deeds, or rather his own ​words. To withstand the primates in so far as they injured the cause was well; but was it seemly to brawl, to throw ineffectual words about, to waste, as he called it, "good anger on an unprofitable thing"? What fruit had his angry gibes and sneers borne? Were the primates wagging their unamiable tongues less zealously? Were they not even speaking bitter truth when they said that nefarious traffic was going on between the captains of the army and the besieged? If the evil was to be checked, it must be checked another way, and not by sprinkling the scandal-mongers with insults. For a long time he had contemplated taking a certain step, and now that opportunity offered itself so fitly he took it with as light a heart as that which a tired man bears homeward. At the same time the openness of the accusation prompted an equal openness. Germanos should be answered once for all with his own frankness, and then for the highest trump card to take the honor-laden trick.
So Nicholas, still smiling courteously, asked permission from the prince, and in dead silence made his reply, speaking very quietly.
"We have open dealings at length from the archbishop," he said, "and though I have dealt very openly with him from the first, yet never before has he favored me thus. He has told us that no preparations are being made for bringing the siege to a conclusion. That, with the permission of all present, I declare to be a deliberate lie. Ah, I must ask you to sit down," he said to Germanos, as the latter rose angrily to his feet. "You have had a fair hearing, and I claim and shall receive the same. A lie," he continued, "because I can tell him it is untrue; a deliberate lie, beeause there is no need for me to tell him. He was here throughout the month of August—a month to which he again alluded later—and he knows ​that during that month I was a tired and busy man, for I was drilling successive companies of men all day, and if he knew anything of military matters he would be well aware that it was my pleasure to see them improve considerably, so that now the greater part of them are efficient soldiers. He has told us that it is not to the advantage of the soldiers to remain here, and that was in a sense true, though not wholly; for if it is to the advantage of these men that Greece becomes a free country—and it is their duty to help in securing its freedom—it is to their advantage that they remain here, for here they can acquire that knowledge which will enable them to fight successfully. He went on to tell us that it was not to the advantage of the primates to remain here. Then why, in the name of God, do they do so? for it is not to the advantage of the soldiers that they cause divisions and dissensions among us. Let them go home and gather in the tithes their hearts desire. No one, not even I, will try to stop them. Yet they do not go, and we must suppose it is for some one's advantage that they stop. Can it be that some of them have an idea of getting possession of even a considerable part of the booty we shall take? Can it be that one of them—yes, no other than the archbishop—came here in the name of his Master and asked certain men—no other than Petrobey and myself—for half the spoils which would be taken, giving half to the national treasury, and to the men—the soldiers who had fought and bied for it—the rest? Those spoils were to be devoted to the glory of God, and who but His priests, the primates and bishops, were to be trustees? And on that chance of getting, not half the spoils, but still enough to make it worth while to wait, we shall find the reason of their stopping here."
​Nicholas looked across at Germanos, who sat white and shaking with anger, and for a moment his passion flamed up.
"Sit there and hate me!" he cried, "for that will not harm me! If your motives were honest, why should I not tell them? and, if not, there is more cause for them to be known."
Germanos suddenly started up.
"It is an infamous slander!" he exclaimed; but Petrobey, without moving from his seat, turned to the prince, speaking loud enough to be heard by all.
"What my cousin has said is perfectly true," he remarked. "I was present myself."
"Please to sit down, archbishop," said the prince. "Nicholas Vidalis is speaking to us."
"This man has told us," continued Nicholas, "that an infamous traffic is going on between the Turks and the captains of this army. We all know, unhappily, that there is some truth in that. Two months ago, when this assertion was as yet false, he was saying the same thing, and he and others busied themselves in spreading reports that it was so. Was that the part of an honorable man—to spread those infamous lies about us, to slander and defame us to our troops? Is not the motive as clear as the noonday? By sowing discord and dissension and mistrust in our ranks he hoped to see his grand scheme realized, to have the army flocking to him, pouring in gold and treasure for the glory of God into the hands of his trustees. No great success has attended these efforts, and when Prince Demetrius left the camp I do not know that the primates found themselves very popular men. Finally, an attack has been made on me personally. You have been told that at any time during the month of August I might have stormed the town if I had ​wished. That is a black falsehood, though perhaps not deliberate, since the archbishop knows nothing of military affairs. For, in the first place, my hands were full—it was necessary to bring a mere disorderly rabble to military efficiency, and that, to the best of my power, I did; and, in the second place, though I was in command of these troops, I had agreed with my superior in command not to make any attempt while the army was weakened by the withdrawal of the Mainat division, who were at Monemvasia. I appeal to him to know whether this is or is not true."
"It is true," said Petrobey.
"As to my having profited by these delays," continued Nicholas, "you have only my word against the word of another; but if the archbishop has any evidence to bring on that point, I should be glad to hear it. I wait for his reply."
There was a dead silence. Germanos sat voiceless, with his eyes on the floor.
"If he is thinking over the evidence in his mind," said Nicholas, "fitting it together as a witness and an accuser should, let him say so, and I will wait."
Still there was silence, and Germanos, still proud and full of hate, sat there without speech.
"So it is even as I told you," said Nicholas; "and these are malicious and lying words he has spoken against me. I am a man easily provoked, and, to my shame I speak it, one to whom forgiveness is a hard matter; but that, or so I think it, is a thing for which I ask pardon, not of man, but of God. Here, in this assembly, I have been accused of the blackest offences; but the accusation was blacker still, for it was the fruit of malice and falsehood. This is no matter for words of regret from one or of pardon from the other, for there is in my heart no ​pardon, and in his, I am very sure, no regret. Yet can I rid myself of the need of either? My heart is sick of intrigue and dissension, accusation and slander answering accusation, and I will have no more of them. As I stand in the presence of God I have only one thought, and that is the freedom of my country, and I do not serve it by spending my time throwing words at men whose salt I would not eat. It is not so very long since another said his voice would be heard no more here, yet since then it has not been silent. To-day those words are mine; but, before I go, one word. For the love of God, if any who sit here suspect me of treachery, treason, or any of those things of which I have been accused, as he hopes to be forgiven at the last day, let him stand out and say go."
Once again there was a dead silence, and Nicholas's face brightened, for the silence was sweet to him.
"So be it," he said, at length. "I go hence untouched by slander."
Then unbuckling his sword, he laid it on the table in front of the prince.
"My seat in the senate, sir, I resign," he said; "my commission as an officer I resign also. By birth I am a Mainat, and with your highness's permission I wish to be enrolled among the private soldiers of the corps."
Then turning to Petrobey:
"Old friend," he said, "once more we are together in the clan."
And with a step as light as a boy's, and a heart springing upward like a lark, rid at last of the burden of personal ambition, he left the room and went straight to where the corps were quartered.
"UNBUCKLING HIS SWORD, HE LAID IT ON THE TABLE."
​attempt had been made on a vessel of the cruising Turkish squadron, with the result of first half-roasting its navigater and then completely drowning him; but the men seeing an officer approach got up and saluted.
Nicholas, still with a singing heart, told them to be seated, and, lighting a pipe, drew in the smoke in long, contented breaths.
"This is the first tobacco I have enjoyed since we came here," he said, "for tobacco is tasted by the heart. Never again, lads, need you jump up when I come, for I am no longer an officer, but just a private like yourselves."
Mitsos stared aghast.
"Uncle Nicholas, what do you mean?" he gasped, wrinkling his eyebrows. "Is this Germanos's doing?"
"Not so, little Mitsos, for neither Germanos nor another could do that, but only myself. I have resigned my place in the senate, I have resigned my commission, and all that is left of me is plain Nicholas; but a man as happy as a king, instead of a bundle of malice and a bag of bad words which squirted out like new must. Eh, but I am happy, and it is God's own morning."
And he puffed out a great cloud of smoke and langhed out a great mouthful of laughter.
"But what has happened?" cried Mitsos, still feeling that the world was upsidedown.
"This has happened, little one," said Nicholas; "that a foul-tempered man has made up his mind to be foul tempered no more, and as the thing was an impossibility when he had to sit cocked up on a chair opposite the proud primates, why he has been sensible enongh to refuse to sit there any longer. And as he was tired of tripping up on his fine tin sword, he has given it back to the fine tin prince. And may that man never do any​thing which he regrets less. Ah! here come my superior officers. There will be talking to do, but little of it will I lay my tongue to."
And he sprang up and saluted Petrobey.
Petrobey came up, quickly followed by two or three of the other officers, among whom was the prince, smiling at Nicholas through his annoyance, as the man stood at attention comely and erect.
"Drop that nonsense, dear cousin," he said, "and come to my tent for a talk. Look, we have all come to fetch you."
Nicholas looked at him radiantly.
"I have had a set of good minutes since I left you," he said. "Say your say, cousin, but little talking will I do."
The prince came forward with a fine, courteous air.
"We have come," he said, "to beg you to reconsider this step. I fancy you will find no more insults awaiting you in the senate."
"Your highness," he said, "I can look back on my life and say I have done one wise thing in it, and that this morning. And if, as you say, there are no insults awaiting me in the senate, that confirms my belief in its wisdom."
"But this is absurd, Nicholas," remonstrated Petrobey, "and all the primates, even Germanos himself, regret what you have done."
Nicholas laughed.
"That is a sweet word to me," he said, "and you know it. But I am no child to be coaxed with sugar."
"But think of us—we want your help. You have more weight with the men than any of us!"
"I shall not fail you," said Nicholas, "and if I do my duty in the ranks as well as I hope, I think I shall be more useful there than anywhere else."
​"But your career, now on the point of being crowned," said Petrobey, eagerly. "The prince has promised—"
But Nicholas waved his hand impatiently.
"I have just got rid of my career," he said, "and I feel like a tired horse when a stout rider dismounts and loosens the girth. Do not attempt to saddle me again. Ah, dear cousin," he went on, suddenly with affection and more gravity, "even you know me not at all if you speak like that. Believe me, I care only for one thing in this world, and that is the object for which we have labored together so long. That cause I serve best here, and for these months I have been puffing myself up to think that fine, angry words were of no avail. But I will try them no longer; I am sick of anger, and my belly moves, whether I will or not, when I sit there and have to listen—you know to what. Leave me in peace. It is better so."
He glanced across at Mitsos a moment, who was standing by.
"I wish to speak to you alone, cousin," he said to Petrobey, "but that will wait. Meantime, I thank you for all your friendliness to me, and I decline entirely to listen to you. The thing is finished."
Petrobey saw that, for the present at least, it was no manner of use trying to persuade him, and left him for a time; and Nicholas, remarking that it was time for rations, and that these officers were horribly unpunctual, took Mitsos by the arm and led him off to the canteen, telling him on the way what had happened.
Mitsos was furiously indignant with Germanos, and vowed that the camp should ring with the hissing of his name, but Nicholas stopped him.
"I neither forgive nor forget," he said, "but it is mere waste of time and temper to curse. The harm is ​done, leave the vermin alone; oh, they have bitten me sorely, I don't deny that, but if we are going scavenging, as I pray God we may, let us begin in our own house. There are purging and washing to be done among the men, I fear, little Mitsos. And from this day, if there is any traffic or dishonorable barter among the corps of the clan, have me out and shoot me, for I make it my business that there shall be none. Now we will go and get our rations. I ordered supplies of fresh beef for the men yesterday; that was a good act to finish up with, and see already I reap the fruits of it."
Nicholas remained perfectly firm, and Petrabey eventually desisted from his attempt to persuade him to take up his commission again, for he might as well have tried to lever the sun out of its orbit. But he still continued to ask Nicholas's advice about the affairs of the army, which the latter could not very well withhold. Among the men, and especially among the Mainats, he underwent a sort of upsidedown apotheosis. Germanos had made villanous accusations; here was a fine answer. As for that proud man himself, he found his position was no longer tenable. So far from betng able to profit by Nicholas's action, he discovered, though too late, that he had overreached himself in making so preposterous a statement about his enemy, and the army buzzed away through his fine woven web, leaving it dangling in the wind. He saw that his chance of power was over, and, accepting the inevitable, took his departure for Kalavryta, where he hoped his authority remained intact. But, alas! for the triumphal reception by the united army—alas! too, for his chance of the Patriarchate. His name, which he had prospectively throned in the hearts of myriads, was flotsam on the tide of their righteous anger against him, thrown up on the beach, tossed to ​and fro once or twice, and then left. His followers, the primates and bishops, less wise than he, still stayed on, hoping against hope that the popular favor would set their way. But the evil he and his had done lived after them; nothing now could undo the distrust and suspicion they had caused, for their first malignant slander had found fulfilment, and the army distrusted its officers, while the officers were not certain of their men. Nicholas had cleared himself, leaping with a shout of triumph free from the web spun round him; others had not the manliness to do the same, to challenge the evidence, for they knew there was evidence.
Nicholas found opportunity to tell Petrobey about Mitsos' love affairs, but a few days afterwards news came to the camp that a landing of the Turks from their western squadron was expected on the Gulf of Corinth, near Vostitza, and the prince, with some acuteness, found in this rumor sufficient reason to make his presence there desirable. Petrobey, wishing to have a speedy and reliable messenger who could communicate with the camp in the event taking place, sent Mitsos off with him, and before the end of the third week in September the prince took his departure in some haste, hoping to regain in fresh fields the loss of prestige he had suffered here and at Monemvasia. The news, if confirmed, was serious, for it meant that the Turkish squadron had evaded the Greek fleet and threatened the Morea from the north, while, if once a landing was effected, the Turks would, without doubt, march straight to the relief of Tripoli just when its need was sorest. The prince left the camp with much state and dignity, but with nothing else, and Mitsos, to whom he had given a place on his staff as aide-de-camp extraordinary to the Viceroy of Greece, with the rank of lieutenant in the Hellenic army, pranced gayly ​along on a fine-stepping horse, and for the first time fully sympathized with Nicholas's resignation. They travelled by short marches, "like women," as Mitsos described it afterwards, and one night the aide-de-camp extraordinary, having occasion to bring a message to his master, woke him out of his sleep, and saw the commander-in-chief in a night-cap, which left a deep, bilious impression on his barbarian mind wholly out of proportion to so innocuous a discovery.
For a time, at least, in Tripoli there was no more intriguing between the besiegers and the besieged, for Petrobey redoubled his vigilance, and every night sent down a corps of trustworthy men to lie in wait round the town. Meantime he knew a strong band of cavalry and a large force of Albanian mercenaries were within the town, and in the citadel was enough artillery to be formidable; so that while there was a chance of capitulation, provided the rumor of the expected landing of troops on the Gulf of Corinth continued unconfirmed, he was unwilling to make an assault on the town. But it began to be known that the fall of Tripoli was inevitable, and from all over the country the peasants flocked together on the hills waiting for the end and a share in the booty. It was in vain that Petrobey tried to drive them back; as soon as he had cleared one range of hills they swarmed upon another like sparrows in the vines, springing as it seemed from the ground, or as vultures grow in the air before a battle. Some came armed with guns, requesting to be enrolled in the various corps; others with sickles or reaping-hooks, or just with a knife or a stick. Every evening on the hills round shone out the fires of this unorganized rabble, gathering thicker and thicker as the days went on.
Then, on the 24th of September, a refugee from the ​town was captured and brought to the camp, and being promised his life if he gave intelligence of what was going on inside, told them that famine had begun; that many of the horses of the cavalry carps had been killed for meat, and that unless help came the end was but a matter of hours. Once again Petrobey consulted Nicholas, who advised an assault at once; but the other argued that as long as no news came of the reinforcements from the north the case of the town was hopeless, and as it was for the Greeks to demand terms, they might as well wait for a proposal to come. Nicholas disagreed; there had been treachery before in the camp; there might be treachery now. Let them, at any rate, minimize the disgrace to the nation. Petrobey in part yielded, and consented to do as Nicholas advised if no proposals were made in three days. In the mean time, since there was no longer any fear of the cavalry, they would move down closer onto the plain and directly below the walls. Then, if fire was opened on them from the citadel, they would storm it out of hand; but if not—and he had suspected for a long time that the guns were not all serviceable—they would wait for three days, unless Mitsos came back saying that reinforcements were on the way from the north.