The Capsina: An Historical NovelBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
History
The Capsina: An Historical Novel
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Greece -- History -- War of Independence, 1821-1829 -- Fiction
This straightforward statement of the duty of Hydriots was not less
abhorrent to the assembled primates. The Capsina had gone, the clan
were shouting themselves hoarse on the beach, and, where an action of
the Capsina was concerned, it was not less idle to argue with the clan
than to employ rhetoric to a mad bull. The only courses open were to
fly for safety to the mainland, join the revolutionists, or employ
coercive measures with the rest, whereby they should not do so. Now the
tax-collectors were necessarily of their party, for the necks of all
the officials under the Turkish rule were, so to speak, in one noose,
and there were also a number of old, sedately minded or retired men who
would distinctly prefer to live out their lives in inglorious peace,
unless matters were already in the fire, than to burn squibs, for in
so small regard did the primates hold the revolution, under the very
nose of the Shadow of God. But, look at it as they might, they were
bound to confess that a sorrier party had never been got together.
Even Tombazes, by his remark about the duty of Hydra, showed he was of
no reliable stuff, and the primates seemed depressed. For the rest,
the island was capering in exultant frenzy on the beach, at what the
Capsina had done, and what they would do.
Tombazes, who as their president should have shown himself a pillar
of prudence, alone of them all sat with a glistening eye, and smiled,
showing his teeth in his black and scarcely gray-streaked beard. Then
throwing his head back, he burst out into a great crack of laughter.
"The Capsina is finer than we all," he said. "What a girl! She is the
only man among us, for all our long beards. Who knows she may not sail
straight for Constantinople, force her way into the Sultan's presence,
and set Michael at him. I can almost see her doing it, and indeed I
should dearly like to. 'Hi, Michael, at his throat, boy!' she would
cry. Yet I see her walking out again safe and leaving him lying dead
like a broken doll, for I cannot imagine three armies of Turks stopping
her. She would call them dogs and devils, and, the chidden dogs, they
would tuck their tails away and only snarl. Yes, my brothers, this is
not in order; I am but a fond dreamer. But let us come to the point.
The Capsina beats us. Oh, she beats us! We need not waste time in
making faces at that. But what next? Of course we must do our best to
stop this rising, but, though I would not have it said by others, my
heart is not wholly on our side, though my head shall be. Is not the
Capsina stupendous?"
He rose again from his place, and hurried to the open window for
another glance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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