Shadow of a Hero

LEGEND

The English Milord

FOR THE DEATH of his son the Pasha of Potok put a price on the head of Restaur Vax, of a hundred and seventy pieces of gold, and seventy also on the head of Lash the Golden, but Lash laughed when they told him the news.

‘For these nine years,’ he said, ‘I have slept with a price on my head, and my dreams have been all the sweeter.’

Now Restaur Vax fell ill of a fever, so Lash carried him to a farm where he could lie concealed. A great storm blew down from the north, and an English Milord,¹ travelling past that way, sent his guide to the door to ask for shelter. This guide was a Greek. The Milord brought with him two horses, a black and a bay, while the Greek rode a pony.

The farmer’s wife put food and wine before the Milord and he ate, and that done he settled to playing dice for pastime, left hand against right. Now above all else in life Lash loved three things, a hard fight, a fine woman, and the rattle of dice on the board. Moreover, he thought in his heart, ‘If we are to fight the Turks we must have horses. There are two here for the taking, with St Joseph’s aid.’²

When he made his offer the Milord laughed.

‘My horses are worth more than a peach and an olive,’ he said. ‘What will you stake against them?’

Lash laid on the table the first of the Bishop’s rings, which Restaur Vax had given him. The Milord examined it and accepted it as a fair stake. So they played, and the Milord won, and won the second ring also in the same manner. Then Lash climbed to the loft where Restaur Vax lay in his fever and took from his wallet the four remaining rings, and staked them.

First he staked a ring of fine gold, set with blue lapis carved to the shape of a dolphin. That he lost.

Next he staked a ring of fine gold set with chrysoprase. That he lost.

Third he staked a ring of silver entwined with gold, of marvellous workmanship. That he lost also.

Last he staked a ring of fine gold set with a ruby and three diamonds.

‘This is worth more than a single horse,’ he said.

‘Then I will stake my guide’s pony also,’ said the Milord.

But Lash desired both the Milord’s horses, so he said, ‘The pony is no more than a skeleton with a mangy hide.’

‘Not so,’ said the Milord. ‘She is a sturdy mare, not six years old. Come to the barn and see.’

They took the lantern and went out to the barn, where the horses were stabled, and there they found that the pony was gone, and its saddle and harness too. The Milord called for his guide, but the Greek did not answer.

Lash said, ‘This man saw me and knew who I am, for I am Lash the Golden and there is a price on my head. He has taken the pony and ridden to Varni, where there are Turkish bazouks. I must take my companion and go, for there is a price on his head also. But first, since the stakes are set, let us throw the dice one more time. Then with St Joseph’s aid we will have horses to ride, for my companion is sick and cannot walk, and without horses I must carry him on my back.’

The Milord agreed and they rolled the dice on the floor of the barn, and once again Lash lost.

But as he stood up and prepared to go the Milord said, ‘Wait. I do not love the Turks, and you have played honourably with me, neither cursing your luck nor accusing me of cheating, as most men would have done after such a run on the dice. Moreover you need at least one horse to carry your companion. I will stake either one against a single hair of your beard.’

So the stakes were agreed and they rolled the dice for the last time, and now Lash won.

‘Now choose,’ said the Milord. ‘The black is the better bred and the better looking, but he was bred in the plains. The bay was bred among mountains, and has the heart of a lion.’

‘Then I will take the bay,’ said Lash.

He fetched Restaur Vax down from the loft and wrapped him well against the storm and put him on the bay horse and took him by goat-paths and the paths of the hunter to a cave that he knew of on Mount Athur. But first he bound the Milord and the farmer and his wife with cords, so that they could tell the Turks that they had been forced into all they did.

When Restaur Vax woke in the cave on Mount Athur the fever was gone and he knew himself.

‘What horse is that?’ he said.

‘He is yours,’ said Lash the Golden. ‘I paid a Milord for him, with the four rings which the Bishop gave you for that purpose. He was bred among mountains and has the heart of a lion.’

¹ In one version of this legend the Milord is identified as Milord Byron. Byron, though sympathetic to the Varinian cause (cf letter to Hobhouse 19 Feb 1822), did not in fact at any time visit Varina.

² St Joseph is the patron saint of Varina. His bones and a chisel said to be his are kept as sacred relics in the cathedral at Potok. The story is that Our Lord was in the workshop one day when Joseph swore at a knot in the timber on which he was working. At that, his chisel leaped in his hand and cut him to the bone. Then Our Lord, having rebuked his father for his intemperance, touched the wound and healed it, and then touched the timber and made the grain straight. Hence the Varinian belief that to swear by St Joseph is not accounted blasphemous.