the door. One of them, the strongest, a man like a bull, wielded the
axe, but when he tried to strike he fell to the ground. They quickly
raised him up--he was dead. His brother tried to speak, but could
not--he was dumb. There were four of them. They hoisted the dead man
on to his brother's back, the other two took his feet that they might
carry him off to bury him somewhere away.
As they left the courtyard of the inn, Madame Manjoala began to scream
from the window, "Thieves!" and in front of her there suddenly appeared
the sub-prefect with numerous men and four mounted soldiers. The
official shouted:
"Who is there?"
Two of the robbers escaped. The dumb man remained behind with his
dead brother on his back.
Now what happened at the trial? Every one knew the mute had been
able to speak. How could anyone doubt but that the dumb man was
shamming? They beat him till he was crazy to try and make his speech
come back, but in vain. Since then the lads had lost all desire to
attack the place.
While all this was passing through my mind I arrived at the inn. A
number of carts were waiting in the yard of the inn. Some were carrying
timber down the valley; others, maize up the hill.
It was a raw autumn evening. The drivers were warming themselves round
the fire. It was the light from the latter that had been visible so far
away. An ostler took my horse in charge to give him some oats in the
stable. I entered the tap-room where a good many men were drinking,
while two sleepy gipsies, one with a lute and one with a zither,
were playing monotonously in a corner. I was hungry and cold. The
damp had pierced through me.
"Where's your mistress?" I asked the boy behind the bar.
"By the kitchen fire."
"It ought to be warmer there," I said, and passed through the
vestibule, out of the tap-room into the kitchen.
It was very clean in the kitchen, and the smell was not like that in
the tap-room, of fur and boots and damp shoes; there was a smell of
new-made bread. Madame Manjoala was looking after the oven.
"Well met, Mistress Marghioala."
"Welcome, Mr. Fanica."
"Is there a chance of getting anything to eat?"
"Up to midnight even, for respectable people like yourself."
Mistress Marghioala quickly gave orders to one of the servants to
lay a table in the next room, and then, going up to the hearth, said:
"Look, choose for yourself."
Mistress Marghioala was beautiful, well-built and fascinating, that I
knew; but never since I had known her--and I had known her for a long
time, for I had passed Manjoala's Inn many a time when my dead father
was alive, as the road to the town led by it--had she appeared to me
more attractive. I was young, smart and daring, much more daring than
smart. I came up on her left side as she was bending over the hearth,
and took her by the waist! with my hand I took hold of her right arm,
which was as hard as iron, and the devil tempted me to give it a pinch.
"Have you got nothing to do?" said the woman, looking at me askance.
But I, to cover my blunder, said:
"What marvellous eyes you have, Mistress Marghioala!"
"Don't try and flatter me; you had better tell me what to give you."
"Give me--give me--give me yourself."
"Really----"
"Indeed, you have marvellous eyes, Mistress Marghioala!" sighing.
"Supposing your father-in-law heard you?"
"What father-in-law? What do you mean by that?"
"You think because you hide yourself under your cap that nobody
sees what you do. Aren't you going to Pocovnicu Iordache to engage
yourself to his eldest daughter? Come, don't look at me like that,
go into the next room to dinner."
I had seen many clean and quiet rooms in the course of my life, but
a room like that one! What a bed! What curtains! What walls! What a
ceiling! All white as milk. And the lamp-shade, and all those crochet
things of every kind and shape! And the warmth, like being under a
hen's wing, and a smell of apples and quinces!
I was about to seat myself at the table, when, according to a habit
I had acquired in my childhood, I turned to bow towards the east. I
looked carefully round all along the walls--not an Icon to be seen.
"What are you looking for?" said Mistress Marghioala.
"Your Icons. Where do you keep them?"
"Dash the Icons! They only breed worms and wood-lice."
What a cleanly woman! I seated myself at the table, and crossed myself
as was my custom, when suddenly there was a yell. It appeared that
with the heel of my boot I had trodden upon an old Tom cat which was
under the table.
Mistress Marghioala jumped up quickly and undid the outside door. The
injured cat made a bound outside while the cold air rushed in and
extinguished the lamp. She groped about for the matches. I searched
here, she searched there. We met face to face in the dark. I, very
bold, took her in my arms and began to kiss her. The lady now resisted,
now yielded; her cheeks were burning, her mouth was cold, soft down
fluttered about her ears. At last the servant arrived with a tray
with viands on it, and a light. We must have hunted some time for the
matches, for the chimney of the lamp was quite cold. I lit it again.
What excellent food! Hot bread, roast duck with cabbage, boiled
veal sausages, and wine! And Turkish coffee! And laughter and
conversation! Good luck to Mistress Marghioala!
After coffee she said to the old maidservant: "Tell them to bring
out a half-bottle of muscadine."
That wonderful old wine! A sort of languor seized my every limb. I sat
on one side of the bed, draining the last amber drops from my glass,
and smoking a cigarette, while through the cloud of tobacco smoke
I watched Mistress Marghioala who sat on a chair opposite rolling
cigarettes for me. I said:
"Indeed, Mistress Marghioala, you have marvellous eyes! Do you
know what?"
"What?"
"Would it trouble you to make me another cup of coffee, not quite so
sweet as this?"
How she laughed! When the maid brought the coffee-pot, she said:
"Madam, you sit talking here--you don't know what it is like outside."
"What is it?"
"A high wind has got up, and there is a storm coming."
I jumped to my feet and looked at the time; it was nearly a quarter
to eleven. Instead of half an hour, I had been at the inn for two
hours and a half! That's what comes when one begins to talk.
"Let some one get my horse!"
"Who? The ostlers have gone to bed."
"I will go to the stables myself."
"They have bewitched you at Pocovnicu!" said the lady with a ripple
of laughter, as she barred my passage through the door.
I put her gently on one side and went out on to the veranda. It was
indeed a dreadful night. The drivers' fires had died down, men and
animals were sleeping on the straw, lying one against the other on
the ground, while above them the wind howled wildly.
"There is a great storm," said Mistress Marghioala, shuddering as
she seized me firmly by the hand. "You are mad to start in such
weather. Stay the night here: start at daybreak to-morrow."
"That's impossible."
I forcibly withdrew my hand. I proceeded to the stables. With great
difficulty I roused an ostler and found my horse. I tightened the
girths, fastened the horse to the steps, and then went to the room
to bid my hostess good night. The woman, immersed in thought, was
sitting on the bed with my cap in her hand. She was turning and
twisting it about.
"How much have I to pay?" I asked.
"You can pay me when you come back," replied my hostess, looking
intently into the lining of my cap.
And then she rose to her feet and held it out to me. I took the cap,
and put it on my head, rather on one side.
I said, looking straight into the woman's eyes, which seemed to shine
most strangely:
"I kiss your eyes, Mistress Marghioala!"
"A safe journey to you."
I threw myself into the saddle, the old servant opened the gate for
me, and out I rode. Resting my left hand on my horse's flank, I turned
my head round. Over the top of the fence could be seen the open door
of the room, and in the opening was outlined the white figure of the
woman with her hand above her arched eyebrows.
I rode at a slow pace whistling a gay song to myself until I turned
the corner of the fence to get to the road, when the picture was
hidden from my sight. I said to myself, "Here we go!" and crossed
myself. At that moment I plainly heard the banging of a door and the
mew of a cat. My hostess, unable to see me any longer, went hastily
back into the warmth and doubtless caught the cat in the door. That
damned cat! It was always getting under people's feet.
I had gone a good part of the way. The storm increased and shook me
in the saddle. Overhead, cloud after cloud hurried across the valley
and above the hill, as though in fear of chastisement from on high;
now massed together, now dispersed, they revealed at long intervals
the pale light of the waning moon.
The damp cold pierced through me. I felt it paralysing legs and
arms. As I rode with head bent to avoid the buffeting of the wind, I
began to feel pains in my neck; my forehead and temples were burning,
and there was a drumming in my ears.
"I have drunk too much," I thought to myself, as I pushed my cap on
to the nape of my neck, and raised my forehead towards the sky.
But the whirling clouds made me dizzy. I felt a burning sensation below
my left rib. I drew in a deep breath of cold air, and a knife seemed
to drive right through my chest. I tucked my chin down again. My cap
seemed to squeeze my head like a vice. I took it off and placed it
on the point of my saddle. I felt ill. It was foolish of me to have
started. Everybody would be asleep at Pocovnicu Iordache. They would
not have expected me. They would not have imagined that I should
be silly enough to start in such weather. I urged on my horse which
staggered as though it, too, had been drinking.
The wind had sunk, the rain had ceased. It was misty; it began to grow
dark and to drizzle. I put my cap on again. Suddenly the blood began
to beat against my temples. The horse was quite done, exhausted by the
violence of the wind. I dug my heels into him, I gave him a cut with my
whip; the animal took a few hasty paces, then snorted, and stood still
on the spot as though he had seen some unexpected obstacle in front
of him. I looked. I really saw, a few paces in front of the horse,
a tiny creature jumping and skipping. An animal! What could it be? A
wild beast? It was a very small one. I put my hand to my revolver;
then I clearly heard the bleat of a kid.
I urged on the horse as much as I could. It turned straight round
and started to go back. A few paces forward, and again it stood
snorting. The kid again! The horse stopped; it turned round. I gave
it some cuts with the whip and tightened the curb. It moved forward--a
few paces--the kid again!
The clouds had dispersed. One could see now as clearly as possible. It
was a little black kid. Now it trotted forward, now it turned back,
it flung out its hooves, and finally reared itself on to its hind legs
and ran about with its little beard in front, and its head ready to
butt, making wonderful bounds and playing every kind of wild antic.
I got off my horse, which would not advance for the world, and took
the reins up short. I bent down to the ground.
"Come, come!" I called the kid, with my hand as though I wanted to
give it some bran.
The kid approached, jumping continually. The horse snorted madly,
it tried to break away. I went down on my knees, but I held the horse
firmly. The kid came close up to my hand. It was a dear little black
buck which allowed itself to be petted and lifted up. I put it in the
bag on the right side among some clothes. At that moment the horse
was convulsed and shook in every limb as though in its death throes.
I remounted. The horse started off like a mad thing. For some time
it went like the wind over ditches, over mole-hills, over bushes,
without my being able to stop it, without my knowing where I was, or
being able to guess where it was taking me. During this wild chase,
when at any moment I might have broken my neck, with body frozen and
head on fire, I thought of the comfortable haven I had so stupidly
left. Why? Mistress Marghioala would have given me her room, otherwise
she would not have invited me.
The kid was moving in the bag, trying to make itself more
comfortable. I looked towards it; with its intelligent little head
stuck out of the bag it was peering wisely at me. The thought of
another pair of eyes flashed through my mind. What a fool I'd been.
The horse stumbled; I stopped him forcibly; he tried to move on again,
but sank to his knees. Suddenly, through an opening in the clouds,
appeared the waning moon, shining on the side of a slope. The sight
of it struck me all of a heap. It was in front of me! There were
then two moons in the sky! I was going uphill; the moon ought to
be behind me! I turned my head quickly to see the real moon. I had
missed my way--I was going downhill! Where was I? I looked ahead--a
maize-field with uncut stalks; behind me lay open field. I crossed
myself, and pressing my horse with my weary legs, I tried to help
him rise. Just then I felt a violent blow on my right foot. A cry! I
had kicked the kid! I put my hand quickly into the bag; the bag was
empty. I had lost the kid on the road! The horse rose shaking its
head as though it were giddy. It reared on to its hind legs, hurled
itself on one side, and threw me to the other; finally he tore away
like a thing possessed and disappeared into the darkness.
By the time I got up, much shaken, I could hear a rustle among the
maize, and close by came the sound of a man's voice saying clearly:
"Hi! Hi! May Heaven remove you!"
"Who is there?" I called.
"An honest man."
"Who?"
"Gheorghe."
"Which Gheorghe?"
"Natrut--Gheorghe Natrut, who watches the maize-fields."
"Aren't you coming this way?"
"Yes, here I come."
And the figure of a man became visible among the maize.
"May I ask, brother Gheorghe, where we are at this moment? I have
missed my way in the storm."
"Where do you want to go to?"
"To Upper Popeshti."
"Eh! To Pocovnicu Iordache."
"That's it."
"In that case you have not missed your road. You'll have some trouble
to get to Popeshti--you are only at Haculeshti here."
"At Haculeshti?" I said joyfully. "Then I am close to Manjoala's Inn."
"Look there; we are at the back of the stables."
"Come and show me the way so that I don't just go and break my neck."
I had been wandering about for four hours. A few steps brought
us to the inn. Mistress Marghioala's room was lit up and shadows
moved across the curtain. Who knew what other, wiser traveller had
enjoyed that bed! I should have to rest content with some bench by
the kitchen fire. But what luck! As I knocked some one heard me. The
old maidservant hurried to open to me. As I entered I stumbled over
something soft on the threshold. The kid! Did you ever! It was
my hostess' kid! It, too, entered the room and went and lay down
comfortably under the bed.
What was I to say? Did the woman know I had returned, or had she got
up very early? The bed was made.
"Mistress Marghioala!" So much I was able to say.
Wishing to thank God that I had escaped with my life, I started to
raise my right hand to my head.
The lady quickly seized my hand and pulling it down, drew me with
all her strength into her arms.
I can still see that room. What a bed! What curtains! What walls! What
a ceiling! All white as milk. And the lamp-shade, and all those
crochet things of every kind and shape! And the warmth, like being
under a hen's wing, and a smell of apples and quinces!
I should have stayed a long time at Manjoala's Inn if my father-in-law,
Pocovnicu Iordache, God forgive him, had not fetched me away by
force. Three times I fled from him before the marriage, and returned to
the inn, until the old man, who at all cost wanted me for a son-in-law,
set men to catch me and take me gagged to a little monastery in the
mountains. Forty days of fasting, genuflexions and prayers. I left
it quite repentant. I got engaged and I married.
Only lately, one clear winter's night, while my father-in-law and
I were sitting talking together, as is the custom of the country,
in front of a flagon of wine, we heard from a prefect, who arrived
from the town where he had been making some purchases, that during
the day there had been a big fire at Haculeshti. Manjoala's Inn had
been burnt to the ground, burying poor Mistress Marghioala, who thus
met her end under a gigantic funeral pyre.
"And so at the last the sorceress was thrown on the bonfire!" said
my father-in-law, laughing.
And I began to tell the above story for at least the hundredth
time. Pocovnicu maintained, among other things, that the lady put a
charm into the lining of my cap, and that the kid and the cat were
one and the same.
"May be," I said.
"She was the devil, listen to me."
"She may have been," I replied, "but if that is so, then the devil,
it seems, leads to the good."
"At first it seems to be good, to catch one, but later one sees where
it leads one."
"How do you know all this?"
"That's not your business," replied the old man, "that's another
story!"
ALEXANDRU LAPUSHNEANU
1564-1569
By C. NEGRUZZI
Jacob Eraclid, surnamed the "Despot," perished by the hand of
Shtefan Tomsha, who then proceeded to govern the land, but Alexandru
Lapushneanu, after two successive defeats at the hands of the tyrant's
forces, fled to Constantinople, succeeded in securing aid from the
Turkish army, and returned to drive out the rapacious Tomsha, and
seize for himself the throne which he never would have lost had the
boyars not betrayed him. He entered Moldavia accompanied by seven
thousand spahees and three thousand mixed troops. He also brought
with him imperial orders for Han Tatar Nogai to collect some troops
with which to come to his aid.
Lapushneanu rode with Vornic Bogdan by his side, both were mounted
upon Turkish stallions, and were armed from head to foot.
"What think you, Bogdan," he said after a short pause, "shall we
succeed?"
"How can your Highness doubt it," replied the courtier, "the country
groans under the harshness of Tomsha. The whole army will surrender
when you promise them higher pay. Those boyars who are still left
alive are only held back by fear of death, but when they see that
your Highness comes with force they will at once flock to you, and
desert the other."
"Please God we shall not be obliged to do what Voda Mircea did in
Muntenia; but as I have told you, I know our boyars, for I have lived
among them."
"This matter must be left to your Highness's sagacity."
Thus speaking they drew near to Tecuci where they halted by a wood.
"Sire," said a messenger approaching, "some boyars have arrived,
and crave an audience of your Highness."
"Let them come," replied Alexandru.
Four boyars soon entered the tent, where he was sitting surrounded
by his boyars and officers; two of them were elderly men but the
other two were young. They were Vornic Motzoc, Postelnic Veveritza,
Spancioc, the noble, and Stroici. They approached Voda Alexandru,
and bowed to the ground, but without kissing the hem of his garment
as was the custom.
"Welcome, boyars!" said Alexandru, forcing himself to smile.
"Good health to your Highness," replied the boyars.
"I have heard," pursued Alexandru, "of the affliction of the land,
and I have come to deliver it; I know the country awaits me with joy."
"Do not imagine that it is so, your Highness," said Motzoc. "The
country is quiet; it may be your Highness has heard things that are not
really facts, it being the habit of our people to make stallions out
of mosquitoes. For this reason the community has sent us to tell you
that the people do not want you, no one loves you, and your Highness
has only to turn back----"
"You may not want me, I want you," replied Lapushneanu, and his
eyes flashed like lightning. "You may not love me, I will love you,
and will come among you with your consent or without it. I turn
back? Sooner may the Danube change its course! Ah! The country does
not want me? Do I understand that you do not want me?"
"One dare not behead ambassadors," said Spancioc. "We are bound to
tell you the truth. The boyars have decided to take their way to
Hungary, to Poland, and to Muntenia, where they all have relations
and friends. They will come with foreign armies, and woe betide the
poor country when we have war between us, and maybe your Highness
will not do well because Shtefan Tomsha----"
"Tomsha! Has he taught you to speak with such temerity? I know not
what prevents me from smashing the teeth in your jaw with this club,"
he said, seizing the weapon from Bogdan's hand. "Has that wretched
Tomsha taught you?"
"He who is worthy to be named the Anointed of God cannot be wretched,"
said Veveritza.
"Am not I, too, the Anointed of God? Did you not swear fealty to me
when I was only Petre Stolnic? Did you not choose me? What was my
reign like! What blood have I shed? Whom have I turned from my door
without due reward and help? And yet you do not want me, do not love
me? Ha, ha, ha!"
He laughed; a laugh that distorted the muscles of his face, and his
eyes blinked incessantly.
"With your Highness's permission," said Stroici, "we see that our
country will once more be under the heel of the heretics. When these
hordes of Turks have robbed and devastated the land, over whom will
your Highness reign?"
"And with what will you satisfy the greed of these heretics, whom
your Highness has brought with you?" added Spancioc.
"With your possessions, not with the money of the peasants whom you
fleece. You milk the country dry, but now the time has come when I
will milk you dry. Enough, boyars! Return and tell him who sent you
to be on his guard lest I catch him, if he would not have me make
flutes out of his bones, and cases for my drums out of his skin."
The boyars retired sadly; Motzoc remained.
"Why do you stay?" asked Lapushneanu.
"Sire! Sire!" said Motzoc, falling on his knees. "Reward us not
after our iniquities! Remember this is your native land, remember
the scriptural admonition to forgive your enemies! Have pity on the
poor land. Sire! dismiss these pagan armies; come with only a few
Moldavians with you, and we will guarantee that not a hair of your
Highness's head shall be touched; and if you need armies we will arm
our women and our children, we will raise the country, we will call
up our retainers and our neighbours. Trust yourself to us!"
"Trust myself to you?" said Lapushneanu, comprehending his
plan. "Perchance you think I do not know the Moldavian proverb:
'The wolf may change his skin, but never his habits'? Perchance I
do not know you, you especially? Do I not know that when my army
was outnumbered, when you saw that I was defeated, you abandoned
me? Veveritza is an old enemy of mine, but he has never concealed
the fact; Spancioc is still young, his heart is full of love for his
country; it pleases me to see his pride which he does not attempt
to conceal. Stroici is a child, who does not understand men yet, and
does not know the meaning of flattery, or a lie; to him it seems that
all birds that fly are fit to eat. But you, Motzoc, seasoned veteran
of hard times, accustomed to fawn on every ruler, you have sold the
Despot; you have sold me too, and will now sell Tomsha; tell me,
should I not be an arch fool to put my trust in you? Still, I pardon
you for daring to think that you could cheat me, and I promise you
my sword shall not stain itself with your blood; I will spare you,
for you are useful to me and will help to bear my blame. The others
are all drones, and the hive must be freed from them."
Motzoc kissed his hand, like the dog which, instead of biting,
licks the hand that beats him. He was grateful for the promise given
him. He knew that Voda Alexandru would have need of an intriguer
like himself. The deputies had been commanded by Tomsha, in the
event of their being unable to turn Lapushneanu from his path,
to take the road to Constantinople, where by means of petitions
and bribes they were to try and compass his overthrow. But seeing
that he came with the good will of the Porte itself, and, moreover,
fearing to return without any success to Tomsha, he begged leave to
remain in his company. This was Motzoc's plan that he might himself
adhere to Lapushneanu. Leave was granted him.
Tomsha, not finding himself in a position to offer resistance, fled
into Valahia, and Lapushneanu found no obstacle in his path. The
people round met him with joy and hope, reminding themselves of his
first reign, during which he had not had time to develop his odious
character.
But the boyars trembled. They had two great reasons to be anxious: they
knew that the people hated them, and the monarch did not love them.