Moldavian towns, except Hotin, should be piled high with wood and
burnt, wishing thus to destroy the refuge of the discontented,
who many times, under the protection of their walls, hatched plots
and attempted rebellion. In order to undermine the influence of the
boyars, and to root out the feudal communities, he despoiled them of
their estates under every kind of pretext; in this way he deprived
them of their only means of reducing and corrupting the populace.
But not deeming this plan sufficient he put persons to death from time
to time. For the smallest official mistake, upon the utterance of the
slightest complaint, the head of the culprit was spiked upon the gates
of the churchyard, with a placard setting forth his fault, real or
imaginary; the rotting head was only removed to make room for another.
No one dared to speak against him, much less plot. A numerous guard
of mercenaries, Albanians, Serbs, Hungarians, driven out on account
of their misdeeds, found shelter with Alexandru, who bribed them
with high pay; the Moldavian army, under captains who were his own
creatures, he kept on the frontiers, he gave the soldiers leave to
go to their own homes, retaining only a small number.
One day he was walking alone in the saloon of the royal palace. He
had had a long talk with Motzoc, who was in great favour, and who
had departed after devising a scheme for some fresh tax. He seemed
restless, he talked to himself, and was evidently meditating another
death or some fresh persecution when a side door opened, and admitted
the Princess Rucsanda.
At the death of her parent, the good Petru Raresh, who--says the
chronicle--was buried amidst much lamentation and mourning in the
sacred Monastery of Probota, erected by himself, Rucsanda remained, at
a tender age, under the guardianship of her two elder brothers, Iliash
and Shtefan: Iliash, succeeding his father upon the throne, after a
short and stormy reign, retired to Constantinople where he embraced
Mohammedanism, and Shtefan took his place upon the throne. This man
was more cruel than his brother; he began by compelling all strangers
and Catholics to renounce their religion, and many rich families
settled in the country went into exile on this account, giving as a
pretext the poverty of the land and the decline in trade. The boyars,
many of whom were related by marriage to the Poles and Hungarians,
took offence, and entering into communication with the exiled boyars
decided that Shtefan should perish. Perhaps they would have delayed
to put this plan into execution if his excesses had not hastened it
on. "No woman was safe from his lust if she were fair," says the
chronicler in his naive fashion. One day when he was at Tzutzora,
instead of waiting for the arrival of the exiled boyars, the boyars
who were with him cut the ropes of the tent under which he was seated,
in order to prevent his escape, and rushing upon him murdered him.
After this Rucsanda alone remained of the family of Petru Raresh, and
the murderous boyars decided to give her as wife to one of their number
called Jolde, whom they had chosen to be their ruler. But Lapushneanu,
chosen by the exiled boyars, met Jolde, whom he defeated, and seizing
him he cut off his nose, and turned him into a monk; in order to win
the hearts of the people, who still kept a lively recollection of
Raresh, he married, and took to himself Raresh's daughter. Thus the
gentle Rucsanda found herself the partner of the conqueror.
When she entered the hall she was clothed with all the magnificence
due to the wife, daughter and sister of a king.
Above a long garment of cloth of gold, open in front, she wore a tight
coat of blue velvet trimmed with sable, and with long sleeves falling
back; she wore a girdle of gold which fastened with big clasps of
jasper surrounded by precious stones; round her neck hung a necklace
of many rows of pearls. A cap of sable, placed rather on one side,
was ornamented with a white aigrette studded with jewels and held in
place by a big emerald flower. Her hair, according to the fashion of
the day, was parted and hung in braids over her back and shoulders. Her
face was of that beauty which once made famous the Roumanian women,
but which is rarely found to-day, for it has degenerated through the
mingling of foreign blood. She was also sad and languishing, like a
flower exposed unshaded to the burning heat of the sun. She had seen
her father die, had witnessed the abdication and withdrawal of one
brother and the murder of another. She had first of all been destined
by the community to be the wife of Jolde--whom she did not know--then
she was forced by that same community, who disposed without question
of her heart, to give her hand to Alexandru Voda whom she honoured
and obeyed as her husband, and whom she would have been ready to love
had she found in him the least trace of human feeling. Drawing near,
she bent and kissed his hand. Lapushneanu took her by the waist,
and lifting her as though she were a feather placed her upon his knee.
"What tidings, my fair lady?" he said, kissing her on the brow. "For
what reason have you to-day, which is not a feast day, deserted your
spinning-wheel? What has roused you so early?"
"The tears the widowed women shed at my door, and which cry to the Lord
Christ and the Holy Virgin for vengeance for all the blood you shed."
Lapushneanu's face grew dark, and he unclasped his hands; Rucsanda
fell at his feet.
"Oh, good my Lord! my brave husband!" she continued. "It is
enough! You have spilt so much blood, made so many widows, so many
orphans. Consider that your Highness is all powerful, and that a few
poor boyars cannot harm you. What does your Highness lack? You are
not at war with anyone; the land is quiet and submissive. I--God
knows how much I love you! Your Highness's children are fair and
young. Reflect that after life comes death, and that your Highness is
mortal and must give account of his deeds, for blood is not redeemed
by building monasteries; especially is it tempting and insulting God
to deem that you can propitiate him by erecting churches and----"
"Thoughtless woman!" cried Lapushneanu, jumping to his feet, and from
force of habit he put his hand to the dagger at his belt; but instantly
controlling himself, he bent forward, and raising Rucsanda from the
floor he said: "My wife, do not let such foolish words escape your
lips, for God only knows what might happen. Be thankful to the great
saint and martyr, Dimitric Isvoritor, of blessed memory, to whose
honour we dedicate the church which we have built at Pangaratzi,
that he has hindered us from committing a great sin, and caused us
to remember that you are the mother of our children."
"Even though I know you will murder me I cannot keep silence. Yesterday
when I wished to come in, a woman with five children threw herself
in front of my carriage and stopped me to show me a head fastened
to the courtyard gate. 'You will have to answer for it, Madam,'
she said to me, 'if you allow your husband to behead our fathers,
husbands and brothers. See, Madam, that is my husband, the father of
these children who are left orphans! Look well.' And she showed me
the gory head, and the head looked terribly at me! Ah, Sire, since
then I see that head incessantly, and I am afraid! I cannot rest!"
"What will you?" asked Lapushneanu, smiling.
"I will that you spill no more blood, that you cease to kill, that
I may see no more decapitated heads which make my heart break."
"I promise you that after the day after to-morrow you will see no
more," replied Alexandru Voda, "and to-morrow I will give you a remedy
for fear."
"What? What does that mean?"
"To-morrow you will see. Now, sweet lady, go and see your children, and
attend to your house like a good mistress, and see to the preparations
for a feast, for to-morrow I give a great dinner to the boyars."
The Princess Rucsanda departed after once more kissing his hand. Her
husband accompanied her to the door.
"Ah, have you arranged everything?" he asked, moving quickly towards
his esquire who entered at that moment.
"Everything is ready."
"But will they come?"
"They will come."
At eventide came the news that on the next day, being Sunday, all the
boyars were to assemble at the Metropolitan Church, where the Prince
would be present to attend the Liturgy, and afterwards were to feast
at the court.
Upon the arrival of Alexandru Voda divine service began; the boyars
were all assembled. Contrary to his usual custom, Lapushneanu was
dressed with regal splendour that day. He wore the crown of the
Paleologs; over his long Polish tunic of crimson velvet, he wore
a Turkish royal cloak. He carried no weapon except a small dagger,
inlaid with gold; but between the fastenings of the tunic could be
seen a shirt of mail.
After listening to divine service he descended from his stall,
prostrated himself before the Icon, and approaching the shrine of
St. John the New, bent forward with great humility and kissed the
sacred relics. It is said that at that moment his face was very yellow,
and that the saintly shrine shook.
Then once more ascending his stall, he turned to the boyars and said:
"Most noble boyars! From the time I assumed kingship until this day,
I have shown myself harsh towards many: I have been cruel, severe,
shedding much blood. Only God knows how hard this has been for me,
and how I regret it, but you, boyars, know that I have only been
constrained thereto by the desire to end the various quarrels
and disputes which aimed at the disturbance of the country and my
destruction. To-day the state of affairs is different. The boyars have
come to their senses; they have realized that the flock cannot exist
without a shepherd as the Saviour said: 'They were distressed and
scattered as sheep not having a shepherd.' Most noble boyars! Let us
henceforth live in peace, loving one another like brothers, for this
is one of the ten commandments: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself,' and let us pardon one another, seeing that we are mortal,
beseeching our Lord Jesus Christ"--here he made the sign of the
cross--"to forgive us our daily trespasses as we forgive those that
trespass against us."
Having finished this disjointed speech, he passed to the centre of
the church, and after prostrating himself once more turned towards
the people in front, and to the right and to the left of him, saying:
"Pardon me, good people, and you also, most noble boyars!"
"May God forgive you, your Highness!" they all replied, except two
young boyars who were standing lost in thought, hidden by a tomb near
the door, where no one paid heed to them.
Lapushneanu left the church, bidding the boyars come and dine together
with him; he mounted his horse and returned to the palace.
The people dispersed.
"What do you think of it?" said one of the boyars, who, we have seen,
did not extend his pardon to Alexandru Voda.
"I advise you not to dine with him to-day," replied the other.
And they mixed with the crowd. They were Spancioc and Stroici.
At the court great preparations had been made for this feast. The news
had spread that the Prince had made his peace with the boyars, and
the boyars rejoiced at the change, in the hopes they would once more
occupy positions whence they could amass fresh wealth at the expense of
the sweating peasants. As to the people, they were indifferent; they
neither expected good nor feared evil from this reconciliation. The
people were reconciled to the rule of Alexandru Voda. They only
grumbled about his Minister, Motzoc, who took advantage of his credit
with the Prince to cheat the mass of the people. Thus, although the
complaints of the community were continual about the thefts of Motzoc,
Lapushneanu either would not answer them or would not listen to them.
As the hour of the feast drew near, the boyars arrived on horseback,
each accompanied by two or three retainers. They noticed that the
courtyard was full of armed mercenaries and that four guns were
trained upon the doors, but they concluded they were placed there
to fire the usual ceremonial salute. Perhaps one or two suspected
a trap, but once inside it was impossible to return, for the gates
were guarded and the sentries had orders to let no one pass out.
Lapushneanu joined the boyars, forty-seven in number, and placed
himself at the head of the table, placing the Chancellor, Trotushan,
upon his right, and Home Secretary, Motzoc, upon his left. The pipes
began to play, and the viands were placed upon the table.
In Moldavia at that period there was nothing remarkable in the
fashion of the food. The banquet only comprised a few varieties of
dishes. After the Polish soup came Greek dishes of boiled vegetables
floating in butter, then Turkish rice and finally a roast. The
table-cloth was of home-spun linen. The dishes containing the food,
the plates and the goblets, were of silver. Along the wall stood a row
of earthenware jars full of wine from Odobeshti and from Cotnari, and
at the back of each boyar waited some servant who poured out the wine.
In the courtyard by the side of two roast oxen and four roast sheep,
three casks of wine had been broached; the retainers ate and drank,
the boyars ate and drank. Soon brains began to get inflamed: the
wine began to do its work. The boyars saluted, and congratulated the
Prince with loud applause, to which the mercenaries responded with
shouts and the guns with salvos.
They were on the point of rising from the table when Veveritza raised
his glass, and bowing, said:
"May your Highness live for many years! May you rule the land in
peace and may a merciful God strengthen the desire you have shown to
no longer molest the boyars or afflict the people----"
He did not finish for the dagger of an esquire struck him right on
the forehead and felled him to the ground.
"Ah, you would insult your Prince!" cried the esquire. "Upon them!"
In a second, all the servants behind the boyars drew their daggers
and struck them; other soldiers under the captain of mercenaries
entered and slashed at them with their swords. In the meanwhile
Lapushneanu took Motzoc by the hand and drew him to the open window
whence to watch the butchery which began. He laughed; but Motzoc,
forcing himself to laugh, felt the hair rising upon his head,
and his teeth chattering. And, in truth, it was horrible to watch
that bloody scene. The fancy must picture a hall 33 ft. long and
30 ft. wide, a hundred and more desperate men, determined to kill,
executioners and victims, some fighting with the fury of despair,
others with drunken rage. The boyars had had no suspicions, thus
treacherously attacked from behind, and unarmed, they fell unable to
defend themselves. The older men died making the sign of the cross; but
many of the younger ones defended themselves with desperation; chairs,
plates, the implements upon the table became weapons in their hands;
some of the wounded gripped with fury the throats of the assassins,
and in spite of the injuries they received they squeezed them till
they suffocated. If one among them found a sword he sold his life
dearly. Many a mercenary perished, but finally not a boyar remained
alive. Forty-seven corpses lay upon the floor! In the struggle and
turmoil the table was overturned; the jars were broken and the wine
mixed with blood made a pool upon the boards of the hall.
Simultaneously with the murder upstairs began the massacre in the
courtyard.
The boyars' servants, finding themselves set upon without warning by
the soldiers, tried to flee. Only a few escaped with their lives; they
succeeded in scaling the walls and gave the alarm in the boyars' homes:
they called out others of the boyars' retainers and men, and roused
the populace. The whole city flocked to the gates of the courtyard,
which they began to destroy with axes. The soldiers, stupid with drink,
made little resistance. The crowd grew stronger and stronger.
Lapushneanu, when he recognized the strength of the crowd, sent an
esquire to inquire what they wished. The esquire went out.
"Well, Vornic Motzoc," he said, turning towards that person, "tell me,
have I not done well to rid myself of this rabble, to free the land
from this sore?"
"Your Highness has acted with great wisdom," replied the obsequious
courtier; "I have long had it in my mind to advise your Highness
to do this, but I see your Highness's sagacity has anticipated me,
and you have done well to destroy; because--why--it was----"
"I see the esquire tarries," said Lapushneanu, cutting short Motzoc,
who was becoming involved in his speech. "I think we will give orders
to fire a round into the mob. Ha! what think you?"
"Certainly, certainly, let us turn the guns on them; there is not
much loss in a few hundred churls dying when so many boyars have
perished. Yes, let us destroy them root and branch."
"I expected just such an answer," said Lapushneanu with irritation,
"but we will see first what it is they ask."
At that moment the esquire stepped through the door into the courtyard,
and making a sign, cried:
"Good people! His Highness sends to inquire what it is you want and
ask, and wherefore you are come with so much noise?"
The crowd stood open-mouthed. They had not expected such a
question. They had come without knowing why, or what they wanted. They
collected quietly into little groups and asked one another what it
was they did want. At last they began to shout:
"Remit the taxes!" "Cease to harass us!" "Do not kill us!" "Do not
rob us!" "We remain poor!" "We have no money!" "Motzoc has taken our
all!" "Motzoc! Motzoc!" "He fleeces us and ruins us!" "He advises
the Voda!" "Let him die!" "To death with Motzoc!" "We want the head
of Motzoc!"
The last words found an echo in every heart, and were like an electric
spark. All the voices rang together as one voice, and this voice cried:
"We ask for Motzoc's head!"
"What do they ask for?" asked Lapushneanu, as the esquire entered.
"The head of Vornic Motzoc," replied the esquire.
"How? What?" cried Motzoc, jumping like a man who has trodden on a
serpent. "You did not hear aright, fool! You try to jest, but this
is no time for jesting. What words are these! What would they do with
my head? I tell you, you are deaf, you did not hear well."
"But very well," said Alexandru Voda, "just listen. Their cries are
audible here."
In fact, as the soldiers no longer resisted them, the people had begun
to clamber up the walls whence they shouted at the top of their voices:
"Give us Motzoc!" "We want Motzoc's head!"
"Oh, miserable sinner that I am!" cried the wretched man, "most Holy
Mother of God, do not let me be destroyed. What have I done to these
men? Holy Virgin save me from this danger, and I swear to build a
church to pray for the rest of my days, I will enshrine with silver the
miracle-working Icon from the Neamtzu Monastery. But gracious Prince,
do not listen to these common people, to these churls. Command that
the guns decimate them. Let them all die! I am a great boyar, they
are only churls!"
"Churls, but many of them," replied Lapushneanu coldly: "would it not
be a sin to murder many men for the sake of one? Only reflect. Go
and sacrifice yourself for the good of the realm, as you yourself
said when you told me that the country neither wanted me nor loved
me. Rejoice that the people repay you for the service you rendered
me, betraying to me the army of Anton Sechele, then destroying me,
and taking Tomsha's side."
"Oh, unfortunate man that I am!" cried Motzoc, tearing his beard,
for he realized from the tyrant's words that there was no escape for
him. "At least let me go and put my house in order! Have pity upon
my wife and children! Give me time to confess!" And he cried and
screamed and groaned.
"Enough!" cried Lapushneanu. "Do not wail like a woman. Be a brave
Roumanian. What can you confess? What can you say to the priest? That
you are a thief and robber? All Moldavia knows that. Come! Take
him and give him to the people and tell them that this is the way
Alexandru Voda serves those who rob the country."
The esquire and the captain of mercenaries immediately laid hands
upon him.
The wretched boyar yelled as loudly as possible, trying to protect
himself, but how could his old hands shield him from the four strong
arms that carried him? He tried to stand upon his feet, but they caught
in the dead bodies of the victims and slipped upon the blood which
had congealed upon the boards. As last his strength became exhausted,
and the tyrant's satellites carried him more dead than alive to the
door of the courtyard, and thrust him out among the crowd.
The miserable boyar fell into the arms of the many-headed Hydra,
which in a second tore him to pieces.
"See how Alexandru Voda rewards those who rob the land!" said the
tyrant's emissaries.
"Long live His Highness the Voda!" replied the crowd. And they
dispersed, rejoicing over their victim.
While the unhappy Motzoc was being thus treated, Lapushneanu ordered
that the table should be replaced, and the utensils collected; the
heads of the murdered were then cut off, and the bodies thrown out of
the window. After which, he took the heads and quietly and methodically
set them in the middle of the table; he placed the less important
boyars below, and the more important above, according to their family
and rank, until he had made a pyramid of forty-seven heads, the
top of which he crowned with the head of an important Logofat. Then
after washing his hands, he went to a side door, withdrew the bolt
and wooden bar which secured it, and entered the Princess's apartment.
From the beginning of this tragedy, the Princess Rucsanda, ignorant
of what was taking place, had been anxious. She did not understand
the cause of the noise she heard, for, according to the custom of
the time, women could not leave their apartment, and the servants
could not risk going amongst soldiers of whose discipline they knew
nothing. One among them, bolder than the others, had gone out, had
heard it said that an attack had been made upon the Voda, and had
carried these tidings to her mistress.
The gentle Princess was terrified, fearing the fury of the mob,
and when Alexandru entered he found her praying before the Icon,
with her children by her side.
"Ah," she cried, "our Lady be praised that I see you again! I have
been greatly frightened."
"Wherefore? Because I promised I would prepare you a remedy for
fear? Come with me, Madam."
"But those cries, those shouts we heard?"
"Nothing. The servants began to wrangle, but they are quiet now."
So saying he took Rucsanda by the hand, and led her to the
dining-hall. She gave a cry of horror at the terrible sight and
fainted.
"A woman is always a woman," said Lapushneanu, smiling, "instead of
rejoicing, she is horrified."
He lifted her in his arms, and took her back to her apartment. Then he
returned again to the hall where he found the captain of mercenaries
and the esquire awaiting him.
"You can throw these corpses over the wall to the dogs, but set their
heads upon the wall," he said to the mercenary. "And you," he said,
addressing the esquire, "are to lay hands upon Spancioc and Stroici."
But Stroici and Spancioc were already close to the Dniester.
Their pursuers only caught up with them when they had crossed the
frontier.
"Tell him who sent you," Spancioc shouted back, "that he will not
see us till he is about to die!"
Four years passed since this scene, during which time Alexandru
Lapushneanu, faithful to the promise made to the Princess Rucsanda,
did not execute a single boyar. But, because he was unable to stifle
his overmastering desire to witness human suffering, he invented
various forms of torture.
He had eyes put out, noses cut off, he mutilated and maimed any person
he suspected; even his suspicions were imaginary, for no one ventured
to make the slightest complaint. All the same he was not at ease,
for he could not lay hands on Spancioc and Stroici, who remained
at Kamenitza, waiting, abiding their time. Although he had two
highly-placed sons-in-law with great influence at the Polish court,
he was anxious lest these two boyars should solicit the aid of the
Poles, who were only seeking a pretext to invade Moldavia; but these
two Roumanians were too good patriots not to reflect that war and
the arrival of foreign soldiers would be the ruin of their native land.