Part 6 (1/2)

”P.S.--The bearer of this letter can be employed by your Excellencies as a courier or otherwise.”

Cserei looked with amazement at the man in whom mental vivacity seemed to rise triumphant even over the la.s.situde of fever.

”Take a third sheet of paper, and address it to the Honourable Ladislaus Ebeni, Lieutenant-Governor of the fortress of Klausenburg.

”We hasten to inform your Honour that preparations are being made by the Commandant of the fortress of Szathmar, which leads us to conjecture that he meditates making an irruption into Transylvania. It may, of course, be merely a feint, but your Honour would do well to be prepared and under arms, lest he have designs against us, and is not merely making a noise. We, meanwhile, will postpone the advance of our arms into Hungary, lest, while we are attacking on one side, we leave Transylvania defenceless on the other.

Once more we counsel your Honour to use the utmost caution, etc.”

”And now take these letters and carry them to the Prince, that he may sign them.”

”And what if he box my ears for allowing your Excellency to dictate?”

said the frightened lad.

”Never mind it, my son, you will have suffered for your country. I, too, have had buffets enough in my time, not only when I was a child, but since I have grown up.” And with that he turned his face towards the wall and pulled the coverlet over him.

Fortunately Cserei found Apafi in the apartment of the consort, and thus avoided the box on the ear, got the letters signed, and dispatched them all in different directions, so that all three got into the proper hands in the shortest conceivable time. And now let us see the result.

The Grand Vizier blasphemed when he had read his, and swore emphatically that if there were no hay in Transylvania he would make hay of their Excellencies.

Baron Kopp and Mr. Kaszonyi chuckled together over _their_ letter. The Commandant murmured gruffly: ”I don't care, so you needn't.”

Mr. Ebeni, however, on reading his letter, deposited it neatly among the public archives, growling angrily:

”If I were to call the people to arms at every wild alarm or idle rumour, I should have nothing else to do all day long. It is a pity that Teleki hasn't something better to do than to bother me continually with his scribble.”

CHAPTER V.

THE DAY OF GROSSWARDEIN.

In order that the horizon may stand clearly before us, it must be said that in those days there were two important points in Hungary on the Transylvanian border: Grosswardein and Szathmar-Nemeti, which might be called the gates of Transylvania--good places of refuge if their keys are in the hand of the Realm, but all the more dangerous when the hands of strangers dispose of them.

At this very time a German army was investing Szathmar and the Turks had sat down before Grosswardein, and the plumed helmets of the former were regarded as as great a menace on the frontiers of the state as the half-moons themselves.

The inhabitants of the regions enclosed between these fortresses never could tell by which road they were to expect the enemy to come. For in such topsy-turvy days as those were, every armed man was an enemy, from whom corn, cattle, and pretty women had to be hidden away, and their friends.h.i.+p cost as much as their enmity, and perhaps more; for if they found out at Szathmar that some nice wagon-loads of corn and hay had been captured from local marauders without first beating their brains out, the magistrates would look in next day and impose a penalty; and again, on the other hand, if it were known at Grosswardein that the Szathmarians had been received hospitably at any gentleman's house, and the daughter of the house had spoken courteously to them, the Turks would wait until the Szathmarians had gone farther on and would then fall upon the house in question and burn it to the ground, so that the Szathmarians should not be able to sleep there again; and, as for the daughter of the house, they would carry her off to a harem, in order to save her from any further discoursing with the magistrates of Szathmar.

And, last of all, there was a third enemy to be reckoned with, and this was the countless rabble of _betyars_, or freebooters, who inhabited the whole region from the marshes of Ecsed to the mora.s.ses of Alibuner, and who gave no reason at all for driving off their neighbour's herds and even destroying his houses.

In those days a certain Feri Kokenyesdi had won renown as a robber chieftain, and extraordinary, marvellous tales were told in every village and on every _puszta_[6] of him and the twelve robbers who followed his banner, and who were ready at a word to commit the most incredible audacities. People talked of their entrenched fortresses among the Belabora and Alibuner marshes which were inaccessible to any mortal foe, and in which, even if surrounded on all sides, they could hold out against five regiments till the day of judgment. Then there were tales of storehouses concealed among the c.u.manian sand-hills which could only be discovered by the scent of a horse; there were tales of a good steed who, after one watering, could gallop all the way from the Theiss to the Danube, who could recognise a foe two thousand paces off, and would neigh if his master were asleep or fondling his sweetheart in the tavern; there were tales of the gigantic strength of the robber chief who could tackle ten _pandurs_[7] at once, and who, whenever he was pursued, could cause a sea to burst forth between himself and his pursuers, so that they would be compelled to turn back.

[Footnote 6: Common.]

[Footnote 7: Police officers.]

As a matter of fact, Mr. Kokenyesdi was neither a giant who turned men round his little finger nor a magician who threw dust in their eyes, but an honest-looking, undersized, meagre figure of a man and a citizen of Hodmezo-Vasarhely, in which place he had a house and a couple of farms, on which he conscientiously paid his portion of taxes; and he had bulls and stallions, as to every one of which he was able to prove where he had bought and how much he had paid for it. Not one of them was stolen.

Yet everyone knew very well that neither his farms nor his bulls nor his stallions had been acquired in a G.o.dly way, and that the famous robber chief whose rumour filled every corner of the land was none other than he.

But who could prove it? Had anybody ever seen him steal? Had he ever been caught red-handed? Did he not always defend himself in the most brilliant manner whenever he was accused? When there was a rumour that Kokenyesdi was plundering the county of Marmaros from end to end, did he not produce five or six eye-witnesses to prove that at that very time he was ploughing and sowing on his farms, and was not the judge at great pains to discover whether these witnesses were reliable?