Montenegrin Mountains Part 3 ? conclusion. Another true story.
By Gersheimer gersheimer77@seznam.cz

1877: Final excerpts from a travel diary of a 19th century botanist from his 
sometimes adventurous journeys through the interior of the Balkan Peninsula in 
unsteady times. 

We picked up our belongings that the bandits had gone through -- luckily they 
didn't disturb my herbarium materials -- and resumed our journey. Our bad luck 
however continued, even if not as harsh as before. As we walked in almost 
complete darkness through a dense forest, my left foot suddenly slipped from a 
fallen tree and a sharp pain in my ankle announced further troubles. It soon got 
very swollen and I couldn't walk at all. Jakov offered to carry me on his back, 
but my one-and-a-quarter cent weight (70 kilos) seemed too much for him. Seeing 
this, Milica only smiled and squatted beside him motioning me to slide into her 
arms. Then she carried me like a small child in a cradle carry, notwithstanding 
another one-and-a-half cent weight on her back, and not showing any sign of 
strain.

With the last glimmer of daylight on that eventful day we exited the forest and 
started descending towards the little town of Rozaje, spread at the bottom of a 
wide green valley.  Two hours later we approached the first houses and knew, 
despite the complete darkness we mentioned, that something about the town 
wasn't right. Not a single window was illuminated, except for a high rich-looking 
house in the very center, and no movement whatsoever was observable on the 
streets. A house on the outskirts on the opposite side was burning with high 
flames but no one was around to try to extinguish the fire.

The town looked almost deserted and even though we were still too far away to 
hear any voices, we thought we recognized at least three or four gunshots. We 
therefore stopped at the very first house a bit aside from the road, still about 
half an hour walk from the town center. Milica knocked at the door and in her sweet 
voice she called repeatedly for help. It took a good while before a middle-aged 
woman in a black headscarf appeared and motioned us to go inside, holding a 
finger before her lips to urge us to be quiet.

Jakov snuck in first and then Milica, putting me gently down on the floor. The 
house was much more crowded than we first expected, with barely a place to 
stand. Besides the owners and their six children there were four other men of 
various ages, and all of them looked very troubled.

We hastily introduced ourselves and the housekeeper, Murid by name, stepped up 
and did the same with his family and continued: "Be my guests for this night, but 
do not proceed any further tomorrow and get away from the town as quickly as 
you can. Rozaje was captured by bandits yesterday. There are about forty or fifty 
of them; they ran into the town in the early morning, rounded up all of the 
inhabitants and locked them in the cellars. Then they looted all valuables from the 
town's houses, set one or two on fire, and made themselves a stronghold in the 
Aga Begic house in the center. They shot the town's zabit (further on I translate 
here as "sheriff," although this comparison is not quite correct. A local overseer 
in late 19th century Turkish Empire was appointed by the government, not by the 
inhabitants. Theoretically, a zabit should be chosen by the local population from 
people enjoying their respect, but this was observed in Moslem-inhabited regions 
only, Christian zabits were a rare exception) and his son escaped here to us with 
two other men.

"The bandits then made it clear that anyone who gets out at night would be killed 
and took some hostages into the house they held -- young women mostly. It's 
easy to imagine their fate now... Everyone in the town just shakes in a cellar and 
waits for their departure. Terrible are the times we live in..." finished Murid sadly.

I was deeply moved by their plight but I knew that Yenipazar, with a big Turkish 
army garrison, was not that far away. And so I cleared my throat, asking: "And 
did you send anyone to tell Dzevad Pasa in Yenipazar? He has, I think, eight 
battalions of well-trained regular troops under his command in and around the 
city, so he should have sent some help in a day."

"Oh no, we have already done that a week ago, when the band was first spotted in 
our valley. He said he had already sent six battalions at the Serbian border as a 
war could break out anew in any moment; and that the rest he had to keep in 
Yenipazar in case the Montenegrins attack as well... What a coward!"

And then unexpectedly Milica spoke with her strong musical voice. She was now 
kneeling but even in this position her head almost scraped the ceiling and only 
now they all seemed to notice her in the faint light. "Alright, then. It seems that 
we have met a part of the same band in the Mokra Planina earlier today, some 
fifteen bandits. My companions or I might tell you more about the encounter later, 
but for now we can assure you that they are no more; none of them escaped.  I 
think that with your help, and with a bit of luck, we can get rid you of the rest of 
the band as well and set the town and its people free, yet tonight. Murid, you said 
they are now all in one house in the middle of the town?"

Everything about Milica was a shock to the outside world and to these Moslem 
villagers even more. But still, rather that her imposing stature (that itself wasn't 
that a big surprise for them, they surely had heard about her or at least about her 
father) it was her bold and self-confident appearance. I should remind all readers 
that Moslem village society in the Balkans was even more patriarchal than the 
Montenegrin, depriving women even of a right to speak in the presence of men.

But the power that was felt behind her sweet voice was enough to suppress any 
eventual unwelcome comments. And Murid and the others immediately 
understood what she had in mind and provided her with any information she 
wanted: "Yes, but they have set some night watches on the roofs -- one above 
each road leading to the central square, I believe," said Musa, the sheriff's 16-year 
old son, still in tears as he had witnessed the killing of his father by the bandits.

"And that house is all made of wooden logs like this one?" 

"Yes, but it is three stories high -- the highest in town and most luxurious. It 
belongs to Aga Begic, who was born here but left for Stambul thirty years ago, 
and became very rich there. He used to come to enjoy the summers here in that 
house, but this summer he remained in Stambul as the war was already imminent, 
leaving it uninhabited."

"And the hostages are held at the same house?" 

"Yes, as far as we know; my sister is one of them. Please do something to help 
her..." the sheriff's son's voice broke into tears. The younger of the two other men 
started to draw a kind of a map of the town into the sand on the floor. We all knelt 
trying to get a closer look. "Here lies the trgoviste (market square) and the three 
streets leading to it..."

"We have brought two rifles taken from the bandits, do you have any guns here?" 
asked Jakov, who seemed to understand what Milica was thinking about. 

"I do," said Murid, the housekeeper. 

"And I have one in my house, we can take it on the way," added the younger of 
the men whose name, we found out later, was Hamid.

Milica smiled all around and asked: "So, who will come with me to take revenge 
on the bandits? Five of us will suffice, I think. I would just propose to wait a 
few hours so that most of the bandits are soundly asleep. Three hours before sunrise 
would be the best time to begin."

More hands than five instantly appeared, including those of the older boys from 
Murid's household. However their mother, who mentioned they were only 13 and 
14 respectively, harshly rebuked them. Even the older of the refugees, who was 
well over sixty years old, begged Milica to take him with her, but she kindly 
asked him to wait and protect Murid's family in case of need, and he complied. 
Jakov also willingly volunteered with his experiences as a former Austrian army 
corporal.

I looked at him and felt rather envious. Oh, if only my ankle hadn't been injured! 
How much I would like to join them in this unique adventure! Not that I was so 
brave, but the simple presence or aura of this beautiful young giantess, who had 
already showed amazing fighting skills, would make a would-be hero out of 
anyone, I think. I repressed those thoughts with great difficulty...

To be at least of some use, I took out my gilded watch and proposed that they take 
a few hours of sleep before going to the fight and they gladly accepted. 
Amazingly, they all fell asleep in no time and left me alone with my troubled 
thoughts for several hours...

At half past three, three hours before sunrise as was proposed, I woke the 
"revenge party" composed of Milica, Jakov, Murid, Hamid and Musa. They spent 
some minutes discussing possible tactics and checking the rifles and other tools. 
Finally, Murid went out, checked the weather, and addressed Milica: "It might be 
the right time; can we go, commandant?" His voice clearly indicated respect for 
her, as well as the old Venetian title he used, otherwise reserved only for highest-
ranking and respected military leaders, however absurd this title might have 
seemed in connection with a 16-year old girl. Milica smiled and nodded, squeezed 
herself out of the small door and then, the five slowly disappeared in the 
darkness. Then, despite the pains in my leg, and despite being immersed in dark 
thoughts, sleep overcame me in short time.

I woke up with the sounds of people joyfully cheering loudly, both in the house 
and on the street. "They have returned!" cried Murid's wife. "And the whole band 
is either dead or safely bound!" Not believing this still, I exited the door.  

It was already a broad daylight around us and the road was full of cheering people 
and some horse-drawn carts and wagons. Upon seeing my limping walk, they 
offered me a ride. I asked the nearest man what it is all about and he answered: 
"We were told to come with our wagons to retrieve the dead or crippled bandits. 
There might be over forty of them, and tomorrow we will be transporting them to 
Yenipazar to the authorities."

After a few minutes we practically ran into Jakov, who ordered the wagon owners 
to turn around and to get to the meadow where we had fought the first bandits the 
previous day. He sat at my side and in the two hours before we reached the 
meadow, he told me the events to which I was sadly absent:

"We first stopped at the big chestnut tree nearby and Musa, a guy with really 
sharp eyes, climbed it and revealed on which roofs their night watches were," 
started Jakov his narration in a laconic, military manner. 

"Then we approached warily and silently the closest of those houses. I took a loop 
of rope and tried to climb its wall, but there were few holds and even those were 
precarious. Suddenly, Milica took my ankles and hoisted me upwards as if I 
weighed nothing. The two guards with rifles were luckily sitting with their backs 
turned to me so I caught a railing and waited. Milica hoisted Hamid up the same 
way, I made a sign and we both simultaneously threw our loops and strangled the 
guards in a minute; they didn't even know what happened to them. We then 
dropped them down and Milica caught them silently in her arms. She also caught 
us two when jumping back down, it was like falling into a soft pillow...

"The same way we disposed of the guards at the other two houses' roofs; there 
was only one bandit on each. And then we approached the Aga Begic house and 
there was a problem -- it was three stories high, out of even Milica's reach and its 
roof was very steep. It took us a while, but then Murid found a ladder affixed to a 
house nearby. It was still too short but our "commandant" had no problems lifting 
it high even with one person on it, and this way, Murid and I climbed upon the 
roof. There were luckily no more guards, but catching ourselves at the roof was 
very precarious, and we couldn't make a noise either. I even once slid and fell the 
whole way down, but Milica again caught me safely! Finally Murid and I climbed 
safely at the roof's ridge and bestrode it. Musa climbed third and we then held 
him upside down by his ankles. At this position he started to remove the roof's 
shingles one by one, as silently as possible. When there was a hole big enough to 
pass through, he entered it and I followed.

"We were lucky now, as the third floor of this house consisted of 'haremluk' 
(luxurious women's quarters) and the bandits had put all their hostages there -- 
six young women and the sheriff. Yes, he was shot in the belly and all in blood, 
but was still alive. There was also one bandit with a rifle as a guard, but he 
was snoring like a saw and I quickly made sure that he would stay sleeping forever. 
The hostages were firmly bound and gagged, but when we woke one up, she 
confirmed there were no more than those seven hostages and that only the 
sleeping bandits occupied the lower floors of the house.

"We returned through the roof and, one by one, we let fall the hostages into 
Milica's arms. None of them suffered any harm. Only Mehmed, the sheriff, we 
had to lower more gently on ropes due to his injury. After that we ourselves 
jumped one by one back down into Milica's embrace. Then we freed the hostages 
and sent them to safety, accompanied by young Musa, and went on to discuss 
what to do next.

"I first proposed to set the house on fire from every side and smoke the bandits 
out like rats, but Murid argued that a fire simply wouldn't be fast enough. They 
might have realized in time, woken up by smoke, and should they break out in 
organized manner with their guns ready, we wouldn't stand a chance. I had to 
admit he was right. After a while I got another idea and asked whether there was a 
pound or two of gunpowder in the town. I intended to make a bomb with short 
fuse and let it blast on the third floor, destroying them with the whole house in 
an instant.

"But Murid and Hamid weren't aware of any handy supply of gunpowder in 
Rozaje and the time was passing fast, first rays of daylight already starting to 
appear. And then that Goliath's daughter spoke unexpectedly again: "Then I will 
do it another way. Each of you stand at a different side of the house, but at least 
six steps from its walls. Keep your rifles ready to shoot, but also keep an eye on 
the house itself!"

"You surely won't believe me now, but you will soon see the results yourself, 
sir," continued Jakov. "Everything was over before you could count to twenty. 
She simply kicked at the house three times, breast high, once at each of its 
corners! At first kick the whole house creaked and swayed; the respective logs 
moved a bit. At the second kick, one log flew out of the construction, and on third 
kick the whole house started to collapse. This way, the house turned into rubble 
almost instantly, burying the rest of the band below at once. Half of them were 
dead on the spot, some crippled, we then extracted them easily without any 
resistance from the rest, and with the help of other locals we bound them firmly."

"Just three kicks?" I asked in disbelief. "Yes, but she didn't kick like you kick a 
lazy ass, with a tip of foot, but in a strange way -- sideways and with the heel or 
with flat foot. I would lose balance on the other leg if trying to do this, but she 
somehow didn't. Maybe she had some kind of practice..." finished Jakov.

We arrived at the mountain meadow and retrieved the bodies of the fifteen dead 
bandits from previous day, putting them in the wagons. After that, we returned to 
the town. Its market square looked like there was a carnival, however absurd this 
idea was in this Moslem-inhabited town. People were cheering and singing, 
putting on outside tables their best delicacies to enjoy together. Only a pile of 
rubble remaining from the Aga Begic house and a pile of dead or safely bound 
bandits somehow didn't match with the joyous atmosphere. And at the center of 
attention stood Milica, adored by the locals as a queen...

Again and again she told the locals about her home and family, as well as about 
the fights with the bandits. She described it like it was an everyday practice for 
her, yet in a somehow modest and self-depreciating way. Equally modest was her 
reply when they repeatedly offered to give her anything she might require -- she 
replied with a broad smile: "Oh, that's very kind of you. Well, in a few months I 
am going to marry, and so I might just ask you -- is there a tailor in this town?" 

They took the hint and not only the local tailor, but also a shoemaker and a 
jeweler, all of them elderly men, appeared almost instantly. They took her 
measurements and promised to produce everything necessary for her wedding in a 
few weeks.  I was curious whether they would be able to produce this all 
according to the Orthodox Christian customs, but I was told not to worry; they 
would first consult their colleagues-in-jobs in the Christian quarter of Yenipazar.

Followed by Jakov, I counted the bandits and the number was fifty-two; out of 
them thirty-three already dead and ten crippled. Then the sheriff's son approached 
us and whispered: "My father says that he has recognized their leader, I mean the 
fat bearded man that you brought from Mokra Planina. As far back as one year 
ago there had been posters of him on the street-corners in Yenipazar and the 
reward kept getting higher every time my father visited the city. He was called 
Harun Miralaj (Colonel Aaron) as he really had served as a colonel in the 
Ottoman Army before he defected. After that, he assembled this band of deserters 
and other criminals and had been plaguing the land from Solun (Thessaloniki in 
Greece) to here, for over a year. But what's important is the reward. Three 
hundred thousand kurush (an Ottoman coin of that time, equivalent to one gram of 
silver) for Harun, and ten thousand for each member of his band, dead or alive  
or... one million kurush for the whole band!"

Now that really was an astronomic sum, almost beyond imagination of my 
colleagues. Even though one Austrian gulden was worth ten or eleven kurush, that 
sum could provide for a nice house with a garden in the wider center of Vienna 
with all belongings. Or, in local terms, eight to ten houses like the Aga Begic 
house was. Or simply whatever you could think of...

We then secretly met aside, only me and the four members of the revenge party, 
without Milica. After just a short discussion, the result was unanimous: whatever 
we get, one half would be for Milica and the rest to be divided into five equal 
parts, one for each of the rest except me -- I myself simply didn't value my own 
supplement to their efforts that much and refused to take any money -- and that 
remaining part to be divided among all the wagon owners of the town who had 
helped us with binding the bandits and who would escort us on the next day to 
Yenipazar, this being still a nice sum for every single one of them.

That next night we didn't get much sleep either, as we had to wake up and set on 
the trip well before sunrise. That was the only way how to make the five-and-a-
half miles (Austrian postal miles, 7.5 kilometers each) between Rozaje and 
Yenipazar before sunset. The road, leading mostly along the Ibar River, was fine 
and we finally traveled comfortably seated. The Rozaje's sheriff had warned us 
through his son that Dzevad Pasa, the military commander of Yenipazar, was a 
perfidious man who could try to deprive us of the reward. So, we sent light-footed 
Musa first in advance to contact the Yenipazar's mayor, whom he trusted more. 
Everything went smoothly, and when we arrived at sight of the city, some two 
hours before sunset, the mayor was already awaiting us with the city sheriffs and 
their aides.  

They were all shocked to no end when we described that the whole band was, in 
fact, overpowered by only five people, and in most part by a single girl, who was 
blowing them a smiling kiss at the moment. The mayor took us with him to the 
city prison where the sheriffs counted the bandits and sent the dead bandits 
straight to the cemetery for burial, while the living ones to the dirty and flea-
infested cells. After that, the mayor invited us all to an improvised dinner. The 
people of Rozaje went there gladly, but I thanked him and promised to come later, 
since me and Jakov wanted to meet the Austrian consul first. I proposed Milica to 
go with us and after some hesitation she agreed, being naturally youthfully 
curious. In a while, that decision turned out to be very important for her very 
life...

The consul's office was in a luxurious Turkish-style house in the center of the 
city. Even though it was dark outside already, we didn't find him at home at first, 
but his housekeeper let us in, saying that his Effendi (learned man) would return 
in a short time as he had only gone at the telegraph office nearby. There was even 
an indoor bath and the housekeeper promised to heat the water so that we could 
use it. We accepted gladly.

Consul Nebesky, a jovial Moravian and my old comrade from student times, 
arrived in fact only a few minutes later. He embraced me happily and even kissed 
me on both cheeks according to local custom, but then he looked at Milica 
standing tall nearby and his jaw fell open. And it kept open and opening even 
wider as I once again narrated what had happened to us, only this time in German.

However, when we finished he managed to shut it and just kept turning his head 
in disbelief, sneering in a peculiar way. After a while, remaining in German, he 
said, "It's good that you came first to me, especially this young beautiful lady. 
If I understood you well, she is officially a Montenegrin subject... and hardly 
anyone else in this town at this moment knows what I know, having come straight 
from the telegraph office, that the Montenegrin Prince Nikola has this very day 
again declared a war on the Ottoman Empire."

"So to be straight," he continued, "As soon as she appears on the street in 
Yenipazar again, either the police or the military could arrest her on the spot and 
incarcerate her for an indefinite time. And you say you have just seen the local 
prison and the conditions there yourselves, not mentioning the presence of the 
bandits she herself has defeated and brought there..."

I turned to her, and with some help by Jakov, started to explain her the situation 
in Serbian. The consul then joined in -- he was fluent in both Serbian and Turkish, 
as I found out -- and we discussed the options. Milica wasn't much troubled by this 
ugly turn of events and offered to try to escape alone in the middle of the night, 
but then an idea came to my mind. I took the consul aside and explained to him 
Milica's love affair and "engagement" with a boy who was almost surely an 
Austrian citizen. To my relief, he understood and complied almost immediately, 
breaking into laughter.

He went to his inner office and returned with some papers. Putting his glasses on 
he started to question Milica in Serbian: "What is the name of your sweetheart?" 
"Janko." "Fine; and what is his family name?" "They are called Mlecici 
(Venetians) as their ancestors long ago came from that city." "Fine then; and you 
have been promised a wedding by him?" "Yes..." "And what about your and his 
parents, do they agree?" "Well... my father does agree and my mum too, even 
though she was afraid of not seeing me again. Janko's parents were reluctant, 
according to him, but he hopes to convince them..."

Nebesky made some notes on paper. After a while he said in a strict, official 
voice: "What I will now produce to you, esteemed Lady, is called a passport. You 
should carry it everywhere with you, as it proves that you are now officially a 
citizen of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. With this passport you are under 
protection of our noble Emperor and no Turk should ever arrest or otherwise harm 
you -- unless our Empire itself gets in war with Turkey, but I don't expect that. 
What is even more important, this lejstro (official paper) confirms that your 
wedding with Janko Mlecic from Castelastua has already happened and that you 
are now Mrs. Milica Mlecic. Take care to remember that. Tell the parents of your 
sweetheart that in a year, the wedding of you two must be carried out, despite any 
possible obstacles. Because no force on earth or in heaven can deny what is 
written in an Austrian lejstro..." he finished with an ironic grin. As you can easily 
imagine, naive Milica didn't get that hint and obviously thought everything to be 
true to the letter.

The consul then filled in the remaining gaps in the passport, writing everything in 
the Cyrillic and Arabic scripts, as well as in the Latin one, for every occasion. 
"Eyes: green; hair: dark brown..." he muttered to himself, looking at Milica. 
"Height... what is your height, dear Lady?" "No idea..." 

So, the consul then told her to stand with her back to the wall and took out a 
foldable measuring rod. Jakov stood on a chair and made a mark on the wall 
where the top of Milica's head was. This way we learned her exact height ? an 
unbelievable three Viennese elbows and three inches, or one fathom and nineteen 
inches (239 centimeters!)

After those officialities, we three consecutively enjoyed a warm bath in the 
consul's house, visited the dinner at the mayor's house and then, long after 
midnight, went back to the consul's house to sleep. That was where we finally 
informed Milica about the reward she was about to obtain and its significance. 
Well, that wasn't easy at all, as she couldn't fathom such an amount of foreign 
money. Knowing that a grown sheep was worth at that time in Turkish lands some 
five or six kurush, I tried to convert the sum into livestock but it also failed 
as Milica wasn't aware of a bigger number than one hundred. Then I informed her 
about prices of houses but she said: "But we already do have one in the mountains 
and one in the valley, both adapted to mine and my father's height; what other 
house should we ever need?"

Then finally Jakov found a way to explain her: "Milica, you are about to marry a 
son of a sea captain. Now, if you take even only half of your reward with you as a 
dowry, you both could buy another sailing merchant ship, any of the biggest and 
newest among those available on the whole Dalmatian coast. Or you can instead 
buy a smaller steamer..." "Steamer, what is that?" "A ship that is propelled by 
steam, so that you don't depend on unstable winds..." "Steam, like the vapor from 
a cooking kettle? How, by heaven, can it move a whole ship?" "Basically, yes, 
you just simply have to hold the steam in a big firm kettle, called a cauldron, and 
reach the appropriate pressure..."

Let me tell you, dear readers, that was a serious mistake my dear Jakov had just 
made. Have you ever tried to explain any kind of technical issue to any 
Montenegrin, a man or a woman?  I was, in fact, falling asleep when hearing 
those last sentences, but when I woke up in late morning, fairly refreshed, Milica 
and Jakov were still being engaged in the same conversation (only they happened 
to move from the cauldron issues towards the propeller and its function). Her face 
seemed to me even more beautiful when she followed his explanations with both 
her mouth and eyes wide open. Jakov must have felt it the same way, as he 
maintained unparalleled patience...

The next day we went to the local bank, accompanied by the mayor, and we 
collected our reward, part in golden and silver coins and part in banknotes. We 
divided it according to the earlier agreement and prepared for a farewell. The 
people of Rozaje were already aware of the upcoming war between Montenegro 
and Turkey and were saddened by this thought. However, Milica then spoke 
again: "I don't think that Prince Nikola would lead his own army through your 
valley. If he ever wanted to march that way, he would leave it to my father's 
responsibility. So I can offer you some kind of a truce, just between your town 
and our tribe. We might still have to pass through your valley on our way to aid 
the Serbs, but we would give you advance word and would not cause you and 
your houses any harm..."

They raised their hands to an oath and it was settled. Then Milica turned to me 
and the consul: "I also need a ... writing from you, please" "You mean a letter? 
What for?" "If you could confirm that I didn't shoot a gun when fighting the 
bandits..." "Yes, that's true, but why on earth would you need it in writing?" I 
asked. 

"For my wedding. Because that would have turned me into a man... no, don't 
laugh at me! First, it's an insult and second, you don't know our centuries old 
customs." I immediately apologized not wanting to upset this kind and beautiful 
girl, that, besides, could have killed me with one hand's strike if she was in the 
mood.

"A woman has little say in the common matters in our clan," she explained. 
"However, she can become equal to the clan's men by taking a rifle and giving a 
shot. From then on, till her death, she can ? and, in fact, must ? fight in battles, 
speak and vote in the clan's assembly ... but she can't marry or have children 
anymore. That is what I don't want to happen. Those who do are mostly girls who 
don't want to marry the husband chosen by their parents; it's their only chance to 
escape that fate. But I want to marry and have children; my father has approved 
my choice of a husband, that's why I was avoiding using a rifle all the time, why I 
didn't even take one with me from home..."

Convinced now, consul Nebesky wrote her the letter stating what she needed, and 
Jakov and I signed it as witnesses. 

Saying goodbye to this unique sweet girl, probably never to meet her again, was 
really difficult. She took each of us into her arms once more and hoisted us high, 
kissing us on both cheeks several times. Some tears even appeared in her eyes, 
and in our eyes as well. Then she took her frame backpack, now full of money, 
and joined the people of Rozaje, mounting an empty wagon and waving to us with 
both arms and a sad expression on her face until the whole train of wagons finally 
disappeared in the distance.

Jakov and I spent one more night in the consul's house and then we prepared to 
depart towards Serbia to cross the borders before that country also declared war 
on Turkey. From then on, we were lucky. We arrived at the border in four days 
and, with some difficulties and necessary bribes, we crossed it and continued to 
Nis, from where there was a railway connection to Belgrade and Austria-
Hungary. The area around Nis was literally overcrowded by Serbian military units 
and we had to wait full week there for the first civilian train, but then our journey 
went on smoothly. In Agram (Zagreb) I said goodbye to Jakov, my former servant 
and now a fairly rich man, who continued on to his village near Spalato (Split). 
On the All-saints day I arrived back in Budapest and finally unpacked my 
invaluable herbarium materials...

------------------------------------------

In the following months and years I followed the news from the Balkans closely, 
thinking about the unhappy people there and the events I had been witness to. The 
Serbs declared war on the Ottoman Empire in the beginning of December and, 
despite fierce Turkish resistance, they very quickly passed through the areas 
separating their country from Montenegro. In January 1878, they, in cooperation 
with the Montenegrins, surrounded Yenipazar as the last remnant of the Ottoman 
power in the area, while the Russians finally overpowered Ottoman resistance in 
Bulgaria and got within sight of Stambul. The Ottoman might in Europe 
practically vanished, but later that year the European powers organized a peace 
congress in Berlin that restored Ottoman sovereignty over vast areas including the 
so-called Sanjak of Yenipazar. As a result, the Turkish garrisons in Yenipazar had 
to be replaced by Austrian troops, as the only guarantee that Montenegro and 
Serbia would remain geographically separated.   

Of course, this solution wasn't accepted by any of the local nations and unrest in 
the area continued. In autumn of that year my friend, consul Nebesky, barely 
survived an assassination attempt and had to return to Vienna due to the inflicted 
injury. We maintained correspondence ever since and, in one of his first letters, he 
confirmed to me that the town of Rozaje indeed didn't suffer any harm even 
though both Montenegrin and Serbian units repeatedly passed through it. Also 
Yenipazar itself suffered only little. That's the only hint I have about the possible 
fate of our young guide, indicating that she probably at least got safely home and 
informed her father about the truce she had sealed with the people of that town...

Despite having crisscrossed the Balkans three more times in the following years, I 
never managed to visit the eastern part of Montenegro again, and when asking 
other travelers, they also didn't help. One of them visited the land in 1883 and 
heard about a giant chieftain of the Vasojevici clan, who was reportedly already 
dead at that time. He had no idea about any of his children, however.

But thanks to some random turns of events in my life, I managed to briefly visit 
Castelastua, ten years later (1887). I asked around for the Mlecic family and a 
middle-aged woman, Janko's mother, told me sadly that her adventurous first-
born son joined even the subsequent war between Montenegro and Turkey as a 
volunteer, and was killed in a minor skirmish in the Tara valley. He thus didn't 
have the chance to marry Milica, the biggest, strongest, nicest and most tender girl 
in the world, as I have known her...

The End