Part 28 (2/2)

”Here! Help! Father!” shouted the one attacked. He had beaten down one wolf, with a sort of club, and was trying his utmost to defend himself against two others. At this appeal, made, by-the-bye, in the purest Magyar, the man in front hurried back to the help of his son.

”Surely he spoke Magyar!” whispered Dora.

”There are only two of them, at all events,” was Talabor's answer, that fact being much the more rea.s.suring of the two in his eyes, for he had heard, during their wanderings, that there were more ”Tartar-Magyars”

in the world than Libor the clerk.

He fitted an arrow to his bow, as he spoke, and added, in an undertone, ”They are coming, and the wolves after them! but there are only two, nothing to be afraid of; trust me to manage them!”

In fact the two men were already floundering in the courtyard, and close at their heels rushed the whole pack, disappearing now and again in the deep snow, then lifting up their s.h.a.ggy heads out of it, while they kept up an incessant chorus of howls.

Tartar-Magyars might be enemies, but wolves certainly were, thought Talabor, as he let fly his arrow and stretched the foremost wolf upon the ground, just as it was in the act of seizing one of the Tartars.

Apparently the fugitives had not heard the tw.a.n.g of the bow-string, for as soon as they caught sight of the open door, they hurried towards it with the one idea of escaping their pursuers, so it seemed.

But when Talabor again took aim, and a second wolf tumbled over, one of the men looked up, saw the arrow sticking in the wolf's back, and cried out, as if thunderstruck, ”Tartars! per amorem Dei patris!” (Tartars!

for the love of G.o.d!) And having so said, he stopped short, irresolute, as not knowing which of the two dangers threatening him it were better to grapple with.

Talabor heard the exclamation, and, whether or no he understood more than the first word, at least he knew that it was uttered in Latin. The fugitives must surely be ecclesiastics, who had adopted the Tartar dress merely for safety's sake.

”Hungari, non Tartari--We are Hungarians, not Tartars!” he replied in the same language, leaning from the window as he shouted the words.

Whereupon that one of the ”Tartars” who had spoken before called out again, as if in answer, ”Amici! Friends,” and turned upon the wolves, two of which had been so daring as to follow him and his companion even up the steps. The nearer of the two he attacked with his short club; but his comrade, who had been hurrying after him, slipped and fell down, and the other wolf at once rushed upon him and began tearing away at his cowl.

Talabor meanwhile, being completely rea.s.sured by the word ”Amici,”

turned to Dora saying, ”Glory to G.o.d, we are saved! They are good men, monks, as much wanderers as ourselves!”

He pulled the table away from the door, s.n.a.t.c.hed a brand from the still smouldering fire, waved it to and fro till it burst into flame, and then rushed out with it through the hall into the entry, where the learned one of the two supposed Tartars was hammering away at the head of the huge wolf which had got hold of his friend, whose rough outer garment it was worrying in a most determined manner. The rest of the pack, about twenty, seemed not at all concerned at the loss of their four companions lying outstretched in the snow, for they were drawing nearer and nearer to the entry, and were lifting up their heads as if desirous of joining in the fray going on within, while they howled up and down the scale with all their might.

But the moment Talabor appeared with his flaming torch they were cowed, turned tail, and tumbled, rather than ran, down the steps in a panic.

Head over heels they rushed towards the gate, some of the hindmost getting their tails singed as they fled.

Meantime the two strangers seeing the enemy thus put to flight, took courage, and thought apparently to complete the rout, for they rushed off after the retreating wolves and were for pursuing them even beyond the gate, when they were checked by a shout from Talabor, who called to them to stop.

They stood still, up to their waists in snow, and looked at him, wondering and half doubting who and what he might be.

”Who are you?” he asked.

”Magyars! infelices captivi--Unfortunate captives,” answered the learned one.

”We are Magyars!” said the other in Hungarian.

”If you are Magyars, follow me,” said Talabor, and the strangers obeyed.

It was dark no longer, but still it was difficult to judge of the men by their looks, for they wore the rough Tartar hoods over their heads, and the one who had been mauled by the wolf had his hanging about his face in lappets and ribbons.

Talabor could see just so much as this, that neither was very young, that both were wasted to the last degree, and that they were as begrimed as if they had been hung up to dry in the smoke for some weeks.

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