The jest was surely now at an end, said Raby to himself; it was no use
trifling with these people but best to go straight to the point with
them.
So the next day he set out for Vienna, nor did he conceal the purport of
his journey. For he had to induce the Emperor to remove the Szent-Endre
authorities and order a new municipal body to be set up in their place.
As a land-owner, he had full right to demand this to be done.
Meanwhile, he left Boske to keep house, only stipulating she should have
someone to be with her in his absence.
In Vienna all fell out as he had wished, and after forwarding his plans
there, he returned home.
As he reached the gate of the town he wondered what new developments
would greet his return; he had a foreboding something strange was
preparing, nor was he mistaken.
For when he came to his own house, there outside sat Boske in tears,
surrounded by various bits of furniture, which had evidently been thrown
out into the street.
"Why, what in the world have you got there?" asked Raby, amazed, of the
weeping maid-servant.
"What have I got?" cried Boske, "why, honoured master, don't you know
your own furniture when you see it? These are all our things, and they
have turned them out here, and me with them."
"What?" yelled Raby, as he leapt from the coach.
But no answer was needed, for just then the door opened, and out came
the notary.
He leaned with the utmost sang-froid against the door, while he filled
with tobacco his clay pipe, from which he proceeded to puff eddies of
smoke right into Raby's face. He was quite drunk, and behind him stood a
couple of boon companions.
"Pray what has happened here?" inquired the astonished master of the
house.
"Only that I am taking possession of my own property," was the insolent
answer.
"Your property, why it's mine, considering I paid the price for it in
due form," retorted the puzzled Raby.
"But I repent of having sold it, and I've taken possession again,"
rejoined the notary, as he re-lit his pipe. "And now since you, my fine
gentleman, have nothing further to look for in this town, and are no
longer the master here, you may just pack off and go!"
"But I paid you ready-money," remonstrated Raby, his voice fairly
shaking with rage and shame.
"You'd better bring it before the tribunal," sneered the notary, and he
laughed so immoderately that the pipe dropped out of his mouth.
Raby heard the laughter echoed in the yard without by a dozen other
voices.
He strove no longer. He told Boske he would send a coach to fetch her
and the furniture away, and till then, she must wait there. Then he
hurried off to his uncle's and told his story.
"This is beyond a joke," said the old man. "We will not stand this sort
of thing from these insolent wretches."
"But to whom can I complain?" asked Raby. "To the judge, Petray, who is
my personal enemy; to the county court where I am accused of bigamy and
scoffed at?"
"To none of the lot! There is an edict which provides that whoso
appropriates unlawfully the property of another, can himself be turned
out by the lawful owner."
"But where can we procure the methods of force necessary to drive these
people out?" demanded Raby. "The whole township is in their pay. The
municipality gives no formal help, and the military would not move in
the matter. If I myself incite the people to act, I shall be accused of
instigating to violence."
"Leave all that to me, my boy; we old folks know more than you young
ones give us credit for. No need to go either to the tribunal or to the
barracks. We'll just get the good people of Bicske and Velencze to help
us. The gentry in these towns fight like dragons. But in all their
history there is not a single case of either having ever taken their
disputes before the county courts or the provincial tribunals. For,
being of noble descent, there is a tradition among them that all
quarrels which arise between them shall be settled by the military
officer who happens, for the time being, to be in command of the
defendant's town. They are satisfied with this judgment, and never do
either judge or lawyer have a fee out of their pockets."
"That sounds quite patriarchal," remarked Raby.
"Now why can't we acquire just such a right among our people here?"
pursued his uncle. "In a fortnight's time there will be a fair at
Stuhlweissenburg. During this time I will go round and discuss the
matter with the heads of the departments. You yourself can remain here
in the meantime and look after my work in the post office. In Velencze
they are just electing Stephen Keo, Knight of Kadarcs, as the judge. You
ought to propound your plan to him. He has a fine fighting record behind
him, for he went through Rakoczi's campaigns with the great leader
himself, and still wears the shabby wolfskin coat in which he used to
parade in the old fighting days. He is very proud of his military
record, as well as of his ancestors, who came from Asia with the
horsemen of Arpad himself. Remember this point; it will be an excellent
passport to his good graces, and don't forget to give him his full
title, and always to address him as Knight of Kadarcs. As soon as I'm
ready with the legal points we'll go to Stuhlweissenburg and set our
scheme afoot. Meanwhile, have no fear, we'll soon drive those brutes
out of your house, my boy, and send them packing!"
Raby agreed to all of it. He was so exasperated that he positively
yearned for a fight of some kind, whatever it might be.
So it was arranged he should stop and look after the post office, while
his uncle went to collect materials for his campaign.