Part 26 (1/2)

Her words were followed by a sound as of thunder and a whizzing of darts. Madame Vizaknai's body came between Banfy and danger. When the noise of the firing pa.s.sed over he felt her hold on his arm grow weaker;--an arrow had struck the lady just above the heart.

”The arrow was meant for you,” said Madame Vizaknai, with feeble voice, and sank down dead on the ground.

”Poor soul!” said Banfy, looking down at her. ”She always loved me and never showed it.”

And then blood flowed instead of tears.

The Hungarians were surrounded by the Turks and could not force their way through at any point. Already Banfy was fighting with the eighth spahi who, like all the rest, gave way before his extraordinary dexterity. Ali Pasha was beside himself with rage.

”So then, you cannot kill this detestable dog,” he roared, in his anger, and striking the people before him with the flat of his sword, he galloped toward Banfy.

”I stand before you, you miserable hog, son of a dog,” he said, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth.

”Keep your names for yourself,” said Banfy; rode up to the Pasha, and let fall on his helmet so mighty a blow that it was s.h.i.+vered, and Banfy's sword too, and both men drew back stunned. Ali took a round s.h.i.+eld from one of his armor-bearers and a steel tschakany was handed Banfy. The tschakany fell with frightful force on the s.h.i.+eld, making a hole. Ali Pasha drew his sword and this time Banfy saved his life only by a skilful spring to one side.

”I'll play ball with your head,” said Ali, scornfully.

”And I will make a broom out of your beard,” replied Banfy.

”I will have your coat of arms nailed up in my stable.”

”And I will have your hide stuffed with sawdust and use it for a scarecrow.”

”You rebel of a slave!”

”You barber's apprentice made into a general!”

Every taunt was accompanied with a fresh thrust.

”You shameless kidnapper!” shouted the pasha. ”You carry off Turkish girls, do you? I will carry off your wife and make her the lowest slave of my harem.”

Everything swam before Banfy's eyes; he had received three wounds that took from him all humanity.

”Cursed devil!” he roared, and gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth, grasped his tschakany in the middle, bounded nearer to Ali and whirled his weapon with lightning swiftness about his head so that it flew about in his hand like the arms of a windmill, now driving at the opposing s.h.i.+eld with the handle and now with the ball-like end of the weapon, serving alike for attack and defence. Ali Pasha, overwhelmed by this unwonted mode of attack tried to withdraw, but the two war-horses shared their masters' struggle by biting each other in the neck and chest and could not be separated. The spahis, who saw their master reel, threw themselves between the two and drove off the hussars surrounding Banfy. When he saw that all his men were fleeing toward the church he quickly let fall one last blow on Ali's s.h.i.+eld, which struck through, and as he surmised from Ali's roar, just at the point where the s.h.i.+eld fits on the arm. Banfy had no time for a second blow for he was surrounded on all sides. Just then there was heard in the rear of the combatants a familiar braying of trumpets, and a fresh war cry sounding from all sides mingled with the confusion.

”G.o.d! Michael Angyal!” George Veer had arrived with his troops.

”G.o.d! Michael Angyal!” shouted the leader, towering above the rest in his coat of mail with a bearskin thrown over one shoulder; with a notched club he forced his way through the midst of the surprised Turks.

The attack was skilfully made. The knights crowded forward from all sides and threw the army of the Turks into confusion at every point at once so that no division could bring help to another, and the outer ranks were constantly trampled down by this superior foe.

Ali Pasha had received a bad wound on his arm from Banfy's last thrust, that took away his courage; he put spurs to his horse and gave the signal for retreat. The army of the Turks was driven headlong out of the town. The leaders strove to bring the troops to the mountains of Gyerto, where they thought they could gather their forces again in the pa.s.ses.

Outside the town the battle went on in spite of the order to retreat.

The Hungarians scattered the burning hay and in the darkness of the night became so mixed with their foes that they could only be distinguished by the war cry. The retreating army of the Turks in the darkness and confusion now fled toward the enemy, now cut down their own comrades, and in their effort to imitate the war cry of the Hungarians met with still greater misfortune, for since they could not p.r.o.nounce Michael Angyal but shouted Michael Andschal instead, they were the more easily recognized by the Hungarians. The Turkish army was utterly defeated. They left more than a thousand dead in the streets and vicinity of the church; and had it not been for the mountain ravines where it was not advisable for the Hungarians to follow, they would have been completely annihilated.

George Veer ordered the trumpet to sound for the rally of the scattered troops, while Banfy in his restless rage sought to pursue the fleeing foe. In vain! Every way was closed by the hastily felled trees.

”We are forced to let them escape,” said Veer, sheathing his sword.