Part 38 (1/2)

On the day that this happened n.o.body could gain access to the Prince except the confederates in this secret league, who with hasty, eager expressions went in and out of the Prince's apartments continually.

Toward evening they succeeded in rousing the drunken Apafi to ratify the decision. This Prince usually so gentle, so kind-hearted, now poisoned with terror did not know himself.

Ever since noon saddled horses and carriages in waiting had been standing before the gate. Suddenly Ladislaus Csaki came hurrying out of the hall, concealing a paper in his pocket and calling for his horse; he mounted, motioned in silence to the lords following him and galloping off. The other lords too as if pursued, hurried into the carriages standing in a row before the palace, and taking leave of each other with mysterious whisperings, quickly fled so that the Prince in a few moments was left alone. Teleki was the last to leave him. The Prince accompanied this lord to the vestibule, his countenance showing deep sorrow; he could hardly let Teleki go. The latter withdrew his hand coldly from the Prince's.

”You need have no fancies about this, my lord. The principles of a country are concerned here, not a human life. If my own head stood in the way I should say cut it off and I say the same about the head of another.”

And with that he went away.

Apafi did not stay in his room, he felt the need of fresh air. Within something threatened to choke him so oppressive was the air,--or was it his spirits? He went out into the vestibule. The cool night air soothed his bewildered spirits and the sight of the starry heavens was good to his clouded mind. Leaning against the bal.u.s.trade he gazed in silence into the still night as if he expected that some star greater than all the rest would fall from Heaven, or that somebody miles away from him would cry out. Suddenly a cry did strike his ear. With a shudder he looked about but remained speechless in terror. His wife stood before him, whom his lord councillors had kept away from him for weeks by causing a division between the stupefied husband and the high-spirited wife. When the last grandee had withdrawn her loyal men had informed her that the Prince had signed the death sentence and the shocked wife, forcing her way through castle guards had rushed to her husband; now meeting him in the vestibule she hurried to him and in her excitement cried out:

”Accursed man, do not shed the blood of that innocent one!”

Apafi drew back timidly before his wife.

”What do you wish of me?” he asked, sullenly. ”What are you saying?”

”You have signed Banfy's death sentence.”

”I?” asked Apafi dully, and reached for his wife's hand.

”Away with your hand, the blood of my kinsman is on it!”

”You do not approve it? I did not wish it;” stammered Apafi. ”The lords compelled me to it.”

The Princess clasped her hands together and looked at her husband in despair.

”You have brought blood on our family, a curse on the country, a curse on me that I did not leave you to die in the hands of the Tartars.

Even virtue becomes through you a crime!”

Apafi was contrite. In the presence of his wife all his spirit was gone.

”I did not want to kill him”--he stammered. ”I do not now either--and if you wish I will grant him amnesty. Take my seal ring; send a rider to Bethlen after Csaki; show favor to your kinsman and leave me in peace.”

The Princess called in a piercing voice, ”Who is here?” Among the courtiers who hurried forward, the steward was the first.

”Take four of the Prince's racers,” said Anna, meanwhile she wrote the pardon with her own hand, had her husband sign it and stamped it with the seal. ”Take this letter and hurry with it to Bethlen castle. If the horse falls under you, take another. Do not delay a minute anywhere; a human life is in your hands.”

The grooms led up the racers. The steward mounted one, fastening the rest by the bridle, and chased away.

At about the same hour, perhaps the same minute, Paul Beldi called out to his groom the order to mount the swiftest horse and ride to Bethlen and say to the castle warder that he would cut his head off if Banfy received the least harm at Bethlen. He too did not wish to meet his wife in this hour.

And perhaps in the same hour, perhaps in the same minute, Teleki pressed the hand of his future son-in-law Emerich Tokoli, and whispered in his ear;--”We are one step nearer;” under the pressure of the youth's iron hand the betrothal ring that bound him to Teleki's daughter broke, and Teleki regarded it almost as a prophecy that the hand of the youth should be stronger than his.

All Transylvania was alarmed that night. Wolfgang Bethlen could not sleep in his bed the whole night through. Stephen Apor grew so uneasy that he had to make confession: Kornis became so confused on the familiar road home that he was compelled to spend the night under his carriage. And what took place in the heavens? About midnight a shower came up; such that the oldest inhabitant could not recall its like.

The lightning set fire to forests and towers, and floods poured from the riven clouds. The alarm-bell sounded everywhere. G.o.d's judgment held sway that night. Almost the entire nation was sleepless. Only the reconciled husband and wife slept quietly and sweetly. At times the lady wept in her dreams; tears fell on her pillow; she dreamed of her happy bridal days or of the sweet moment when she laid her first child in her husband's arms. Her husband lay with calm countenance, at odds with the world but reconciled with himself--with the better half of his soul. The happiness which had fled from him in the palace sought him out in the prison. The hanging lamp threw its pale light on their sleeping forms. In this frightful night four single riders galloped separately toward Bethlen castle, hardly a thousand paces apart. By the lightning flashes they saw each other at times and each one struck spurs the harder to his horse. The first rider reached the castle gate and gave the signal with the horn; the drawbridge fell threateningly, the rider sprang into the courtyard and laid a letter in the hand of the warder who hurried forward. It was Paul Beldi's message.

The second rider who reached the castle, ordered the gate opened in the name of the Prince. He gave the castle warder a second paper. It was Ladislaus Csaki. The warder turned pale as he read this message.