The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of IndependenceBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
History
The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Greece -- History -- War of Independence, 1821-1829 -- Fiction
Since his arrival at Valtetzi three days before, Petrobey had hardly
rested night or day. The ground he had occupied and was fortifying
with feverish haste was the top of a large spur of hill, going steeply
down into the valley, and commanding a good view of it. Its advantages
were obvious, for the cavalry, which at present they were particularly
incompetent to meet, could not possibly attack them on such a perch,
and also it would be difficult for the Turks to get up any of their
big guns, of which there were several in Tripoli, to make an assault.
They knew that in that town there were at least ten six-pounders, and
certainly fifteen more nine-pounders, though since they had occupied
the place, and found that the Turk had made no efforts whatever to
bring artillery to bear on them, Petrobey suspected, and as it turned
out rightly, that they were not all serviceable. Furthermore, occupying
Valtetzi, they cut off Tripoli from Kalamata, whither before long,
in all probability, the Turks would send a relief expedition by sea.
However, by this occupation of Valtetzi there would be two passes to
capture before they could send help to Tripoli, and, as he said, "they
will be strong men if they take this."
Tripoli itself lay about eight miles to the northeast, and at present
the whole body of Greeks was occupied in fortifying the post they had
taken. A village, largely Turkish, had stood on the spot, and the
demolition of the houses went on from daybreak to nightfall to make
material for building up a defensive wall. The soldiers, meantime, as
their barracks were converted into fortifications, substituted for
them huts made of poles woven in with osiers and brushwood, similar to
those they used on Taygetus. The walls, it must be confessed, presented
a curiously unworkmanlike aspect--here and there a course of regular
square stones would be interrupted by a couple of Byzantine columns
from the mosque, or the capital of a Venetian pillar in which a strange
human-faced lion looked out from a nest of conventional acanthus
leaves. Farther on in the same row would come a packet of roof tiles
plastered together with mud, and a plane-tree standing in the line of
the wall was pressed into the service, and supplied the place of a big
stone for eight upright courses. Above that it had been sawn off, and
the next section of the trunk being straight made a wooden coping for
five yards of wall. Here a chimney-pot filled with earth and stones
took its place among solider materials; here a hearthstone placed on
end, with two inches of iron support for the stewing-pot, staring
foolishly out into vacancy. Then came a section where the builders had
drawn from a richer quarry, and a fine slab of porphyry and two _rosso
antico_ pillars formed an exclusive coterie in the midst of rough
blocks of limestone. But though heterogeneous and uncouth, the walls
were stout and high, and, as Petrobey said, their business was not to
build a pretty harem to please the women.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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