THE DAY OF GROSSWARDEIN.
In order that the horizon may stand clearly before us, it must be said
that in those days there were two important points in Hungary on the
Transylvanian border: Grosswardein and Szathmar-Nemeti, which might be
called the gates of Transylvania--good places of refuge if their keys
are in the hand of the Realm, but all the more dangerous when the hands
of strangers dispose of them.
At this very time a German army was investing Szathmar and the Turks had
sat down before Grosswardein, and the plumed helmets of the former were
regarded as as great a menace on the frontiers of the state as the
half-moons themselves.
The inhabitants of the regions enclosed between these fortresses never
could tell by which road they were to expect the enemy to come. For in
such topsy-turvy days as those were, every armed man was an enemy, from
whom corn, cattle, and pretty women had to be hidden away, and their
friendship cost as much as their enmity, and perhaps more; for if they
found out at Szathmar that some nice wagon-loads of corn and hay had
been captured from local marauders without first beating their brains
out, the magistrates would look in next day and impose a penalty; and
again, on the other hand, if it were known at Grosswardein that the
Szathmarians had been received hospitably at any gentleman's house, and
the daughter of the house had spoken courteously to them, the Turks
would wait until the Szathmarians had gone farther on and would then
fall upon the house in question and burn it to the ground, so that the
Szathmarians should not be able to sleep there again; and, as for the
daughter of the house, they would carry her off to a harem, in order to
save her from any further discoursing with the magistrates of Szathmar.
And, last of all, there was a third enemy to be reckoned with, and this
was the countless rabble of _betyars_, or freebooters, who inhabited the
whole region from the marshes of Ecsed to the morasses of Alibuner, and
who gave no reason at all for driving off their neighbour's herds and
even destroying his houses.
In those days a certain Feri Koekenyesdi had won renown as a robber
chieftain, and extraordinary, marvellous tales were told in every
village and on every _puszta_[6] of him and the twelve robbers who
followed his banner, and who were ready at a word to commit the most
incredible audacities. People talked of their entrenched fortresses
among the Belabora and Alibuner marshes which were inaccessible to any
mortal foe, and in which, even if surrounded on all sides, they could
hold out against five regiments till the day of judgment. Then there
were tales of storehouses concealed among the Cumanian sand-hills which
could only be discovered by the scent of a horse; there were tales of a
good steed who, after one watering, could gallop all the way from the
Theiss to the Danube, who could recognise a foe two thousand paces off,
and would neigh if his master were asleep or fondling his sweetheart in
the tavern; there were tales of the gigantic strength of the robber
chief who could tackle ten _pandurs_[7] at once, and who, whenever he
was pursued, could cause a sea to burst forth between himself and his
pursuers, so that they would be compelled to turn back.
[Footnote 6: Common.]
[Footnote 7: Police officers.]
As a matter of fact, Mr. Koekenyesdi was neither a giant who turned men
round his little finger nor a magician who threw dust in their eyes, but
an honest-looking, undersized, meagre figure of a man and a citizen of
Hodmezoe-Vasarhely, in which place he had a house and a couple of farms,
on which he conscientiously paid his portion of taxes; and he had bulls
and stallions, as to every one of which he was able to prove where he
had bought and how much he had paid for it. Not one of them was stolen.
Yet everyone knew very well that neither his farms nor his bulls nor his
stallions had been acquired in a godly way, and that the famous robber
chief whose rumour filled every corner of the land was none other than
he.
But who could prove it? Had anybody ever seen him steal? Had he ever
been caught red-handed? Did he not always defend himself in the most
brilliant manner whenever he was accused? When there was a rumour that
Koekenyesdi was plundering the county of Marmaros from end to end, did he
not produce five or six eye-witnesses to prove that at that very time he
was ploughing and sowing on his farms, and was not the judge at great
pains to discover whether these witnesses were reliable?
Those who visited him at his native place of Vasarhely found him to be a
respected, worthy, well-to-do man, who tossed his own hay till the very
palm of his hand sweated, while those who sought for Koekenyesdi on the
confines of the realm never saw his face at all; it was indeed a very
tiresome business to pursue him. That man was a brave fellow indeed who
did not feel his heart beat quicker when he followed his track through
the pathless morasses and the crooked sand-hills of the interminable
_puszta_. And if two or three counties united to capture him, he would
let himself be chased to the borders of the fourth county, and when he
had leaped across it would leisurely dismount and beneath the very eyes
of his pursuers, loose his horse to graze and lie down beside it on his
_bunda_[8]--for there was the Turkish frontier, and he knew very well
that beyond Lippa they durst not pursue him, for there the Pasha of
Temesvar held sway.
[Footnote 8: Sheepskin mantle.]
Now, at this time there was among the garrison of Szathmar a captain
named Ladislaus Rakoczy. The Rakoczy family, after Helen Zrinyi's
husband had turned papist, for the most part were brought up at Vienna,
and many of them held commissions in the Imperial army. Ladislaus
Rakoczy likewise became a captain of musketeers, and as the greater part
of his company consisted of Hungarian lads, it was not surprising if the
Prince of Transylvania, on the other hand, kept German regiments to
garrison his towns and accompany him whithersoever he went. It chanced
that this Ladislaus Rakoczy, who was a very handsome, well-shaped, and
good-hearted youth, fell in love with Christina, the daughter of Adam
Rhedey, who dwelt at Rekas; and as the girl's father agreed to the
match, he frequently went over from Szathmar to see his _fiancee_,
accompanied by several of his fellow-officers, and he and his friends
were always received by the family as welcome guests.
Now, it came to the ears of the Pasha of Grosswardein that the Squire of
Rekas was inclined to give away his daughter in marriage to a German
officer, and perchance it was also whispered to him that the girl was
beautiful and gracious. At any rate, one night Haly Pasha, at the head
of his Spahis, stole away from Grosswardein and, taking the people of
Rekas by surprise, burnt Adam Rhedey's house down, delivered it over to
pillage, beat Rhedey himself with a whip, and tied him to the
pump-handle, while, as for his daughter, who was half dead with fright,
he put her up behind him on the saddle and trotted back to Grosswardein
by the light of the burning village.
Ladislaus Rakoczy, who came there next day for his own bridal feast,
found everything wasted and ravaged, and the servants, who were hiding
behind the hedges, peeped out and told him what had happened the night
before, and how Haly Pasha had abducted his bride. The bridegroom was
taciturn at the best of times, but a Hungarian is not in the habit of
talking much when anything greatly annoys him, so, without a word to his
comrades, he went back to the governor and asked permission to lead his
regiment against Grosswardein.
The general, perceiving that persuasion was useless, and that the youth
would by himself try a tussle with the Turks if he couldn't do it
otherwise, took the matter seriously and promised that he would place at
his disposal, not only his own regiment but the whole garrison, if only
he would persuade the neighbouring gentry to join him in the attack on
the Turks of Grosswardein.
As for the gentry, they only needed a word to fly to arms at once, for
there was scarce one of them who had not at one time or other been
enslaved, beaten, or at least insulted by the Turks, so that the mere
appearance of a considerable force of regular soldiers marching against
the Turks was sufficient to bring them out at once. The Turks, having
once got possession of Grosswardein, had established themselves therein
as firmly as if they meant to justify the Mussulman tradition that he
never abandons a town that he has once occupied, or never voluntarily
surrenders a place in which he has built a mosque, and indeed history
rarely records a case of capitulation by the Turks--_their_ fortresses
are generally taken by storm.
From the year 1660, when Haly Pasha occupied the fortress, a quite new
Turkish town had arisen in the vacant space between the fortress and the
old town, and this new town was surrounded by a strong palisade, the
only entrances into which were through very narrow gates. This new town
was inhabited by nothing but Turkish chapmen, who bartered away the
goods captured by the garrison, and Haly Pasha's Spahis did a roaring
business in the oxen and slaves which they had gathered together,
attracting purchasers all the way from Bagdad. Thus from year to year
the market of Grosswardein became better and better known in the Turkish
commercial world, so that one wooden house after another sprang up, and
they built across and along the empty space just as they liked, so that
at last there was hardly what you would call a street in the whole
place, and people had to go through their neighbours' houses in order to
get into their own; in a word, the whole thing took the form of a
Turkish fair, where pomp and splendour conceals no end of filth; the
patched up wooden shanties were covered with gorgeous oriental stuffs,
while in the streets hordes of ownerless dogs wandered among the
perennial offal, and if two people met together in the narrow alleys, to
pass each other was impossible.
This fenced town was not large enough to hold the herds that were swept
towards it, there was hardly room enough for the masters of the herds;
but on the banks of the Pecze there was a large open entrenched space
reserved for the purpose, where the Bashkir horsemen stood on guard over
the herds with their long spears, and had to keep their eyes pretty open
if they didn't want Koekenyesdi to honour them with a visit, who was
capable of stealing not only the horses but the horsemen who guarded
them.
Take but one case out of many. One day Koekenyesdi, in his _bunda_,
turned inside out as usual, with a round spiral hat on his head and a
large knobby stick in his hands, appeared outside the entrenchment
within which a closely-capped Kurd was guarding Haly Pasha's favourite
charger, Shebdiz.
"What a nice charger!" said the horse-dealer to the Kurd.
"Nice indeed, but not for your dog's teeth."
"Yet I assure you I'll steal him this very night."
"I shall be there too, my lad," thought the Kurd to himself, and with
that he leaped upon the horse and grasped fast his three and a half
ells long spear; "if you want the horse come for it now!"
"I'm not going to fetch it at once, so don't put yourself out,"
Koekenyesdi assured him. "You may do as you like with him till morning,"
and with that he sat down on the edge of the ditch, wrapped himself up
in his _bunda_, and leaned his chin on his big stick.
The Kurd durst not take his eyes off him, he scarce ventured even to
wink, lest the horse-dealer should practise magic in the meantime.
He never stirred from the spot, but drew his hat deep down and regarded
the Kurd from beneath it with his foxy eyes.
Meanwhile it was drawing towards evening. The Kurd's eyes now regularly
started out of his head in his endeavours to distinguish the form of
Koekenyesdi through the darkness. At last he grew weary of the whole
business.
"Go away!" he said. "Do you hear me?"
Koekenyesdi made no reply.
The Kurd waited and gazed again. Everything seemed to him to be turning
round, and blue and green wheels were revolving before his eyes.
"Go away, I tell you, for if this ditch was not a broad one I would leap
across and bore you through with my spear."
The _bunda_ never budged.
The Kurd flew into a rage, dismounted from the horse, seized his spear,
and climbing down into the ditch, viciously plunged his spear into the
sleeping form before him.
But how great was his consternation when he discovered that what he had
looked upon as a man in the darkness was nothing but a propped up stick,
on which a _bunda_ and a hat were hanging! While he had been staring at
Koekenyesdi, the latter had crept from out of the _bunda_ beneath his
very eyes and hidden himself in the ditch.
The Kurd had not yet recovered from his astonishment when he heard the
crack of a whip behind his back, and there was Koekenyesdi sitting
already on the back of Haly Pasha's charger, Shebdiz, and the next
moment he had leaped the ditch above the Kurd's head, shouting back at
him:
"The trench is not broad enough for this horse, my son!"
* * * * *
Master Szenasi was one of those who had been sent to find Koekenyesdi,
and he now arrived at Demerser, the famous robber's most usual
resting-place in those days, and pushing his way forward told him that
the gentlemen of Szathmar had sent him to ask him, Koekenyesdi, to assist
them in their expedition against the Turks.
Koekenyesdi, who was carrying a sheaf on his back, looked sharply at the
magister, who dared not meet his gaze, and when he had finished his
little speech he roared at him:
"You lie! You're a spy! I don't like the look of your mug! I'm going to
hang you up!"
Szenasi, who was unacquainted with the robber chief's peculiarities, was
near collapsing with terror, whereupon Koekenyesdi observed with a smile:
"Come, come, don't tremble so, I won't eat you up at any rate, but tell
the gentleman that sent you here that another time he mustn't send a spy
to me, for to tell you the truth I don't believe in such faces as yours.
You may tell the gentleman, moreover, that if he wants to speak to me he
must come himself. I don't care about making a move on the strength of
idle chatter. I am easily to be found. Go to Puespoek Ladanya, walk into
the last house on the right-hand side and ask the master where the
Baratfa hostelry is, he'll show you the way; and now in God's name
scuttle! and don't look back till you've got home."
The magister did as he was bid, and on getting home delivered the
message to his masters, whereupon they immediately set out; Raining
going on the part of the military, Janos Topay on the part of the
Hungarians, together with Ladislaus Rakoczy himself and the captain of
the gentry of Barodsag.
The gentlemen safely reached Puespoek Ladanya, where they had to wait at
the magistrate's house till night-fall, although Raining would have much
preferred to meet Koekenyesdi by daylight, and Rakoczy was burning to
carry through his enterprise as soon as possible.
While they waited Raining could not help asking the magistrate whether
it was far from there to the Baratfa inn?
The magistrate shook his head and maintained there was no such inn in
the whole district, nor was there.
Raining fancied that the magistrate must be a stranger there, so he
asked two or three old men the same question, but they all gave him the
same answer: there might be a _baratfa puszta_[9] here but there could
be no inn on it, or if there was an inn, the _puszta_ itself did not
exist.
[Footnote 9: Common.]
"Well, if they don't know anything about it at the last house we had
better turn back," said Raining to himself; and, when it had grown quite
dark, he approached the house and began to talk with the master who was
dawdling about the door.
"God bless thee, countryman! where's the baratfa inn?"
The man first of all measured the questioner from head to foot, and then
he merely remarked: "God requite thee! over yonder!" and he vaguely
indicated the direction with his head.
"We want to go there; can't you show us the way?" asked Topay.
The man seized the questioner's hand and pointed with it to a herdsman's
fire in the distance.
"Look; do you see the shine of its windows there?"
"Which is the way to it?"
"That way 'tis nearer, t'other way it's quicker."
"What do you mean?"
"If you go that way you'll go astray the quicker, and if you go t'other
way you may plump into a bog."
"You lead us thither," intervened Rakoczy, at the same time pressing a
ducat into the man's fist.
He looked at it, turned it round in his palm and gave it back to Rakoczy
with the request that he would give him copper money in exchange for it.
He could not imagine anyone giving him gold which was not false.
When this had been done he neatly led the gentlemen through the
morass--wading in front of them, girded up to his waist--through those
hidden places where the water-fowl were sitting on their nests, and when
at last they emerged from among the thick reedy plantations they saw a
hundred paces in front of them a fire of heaped up bulrushes brightly
burning, by the light of which they saw a horseman standing behind it.
Here their guide stopped and the three men trotted in single file
towards the fire, which suddenly died out at the very moment they were
approaching it, as if someone had cast wet rushes upon it.
Topay greeted the horseman, who lifted his hat in silence and allowed
them to draw nearer.
"There are three of you gentlemen together," he observed guardedly; "but
that doesn't matter," he continued. "It would be all the same to me if
there were ten times as many of you, for there's a pistol in every one
of my holsters, from which I can fire sixteen bullets in succession, and
in each bullet is a magnet, so that even if I don't aim at my man I
bring him down all the same."
"Very good, very good indeed, Master Koekenyesdi," said Topay; "we have
not come here for you to pepper us with your magnetic globules, but we
have come to ask your assistance for the accomplishment of a doughty
deed, the object of which is an attack upon our pagan foes."
"Oh, my good sirs, I am ready to do that without the co-operation of
your honours. In the courtyard of a castle in the Baborsai _puszta_
there is a well some hundred fathoms deep and quite full of Turkish
skulls, and I will not be satisfied till I have piled up on the top of
it a tower just as high made of similar materials."
"So I believe. But you would gain glory too?"
"I have glory enough already. I am known in foreign countries as well as
at home. The King of France has long ago only waited for a word from me
to make me chief colonel of a long-tailed regiment, and quite recently,
when the King of England heard how I bored through the hulls of the
munition ships on the Theiss, he did me the honour to invite me to form
a regiment of divers to ravage the enemy under water. And I've all the
boys for it too."
"I know, I know, Master Koekenyesdi, but there will be booty here too,
and lots of it."
"What is booty to me? If I choose to do so, I could bathe in gold and
sleep on pearls."
"Have you really as much treasure as all that?" inquired Raining with
some curiosity.
"Ah," said Koekenyesdi, "you ought to see the storehouse in the Szilicza
cavern, where gold and silver are filled up as high as haystacks. There,
too, are the treasures dug up from the sands of the sea, nothing but
precious stones, diamonds, rubies, carbuncles, and real pearls. I,
myself, do not know how many sackfuls."
"And cannot you be robbed of them?"
"Impossible; the entrance is so well concealed that no man living can
find it. I myself can never tell whether I am near it; the shifting sand
has so well covered it. Only one living animal can find it when it is
wanted, and that is my horse. And he will never betray it, for if anyone
but myself mounts him, not a step farther will he go."
"And how did you come into possession of these enormous treasures?"
asked Raining with astonishment.
"God gave them to me," said the horse-dealer, raising his voice and his
eyebrows at the same time.
"Very edifying, no doubt, my friend," said Topay; "but tell me now,
briefly, for how much will you join us against the Turks of
Grosswardein?--not counting the booty, which of course will be pretty
considerable."
"Well--that is not so easily said. Of course I shall have to collect
together my twelve companies, and it will cost something to hold them
together and give them what they want and pay them."
"At any rate you can name a good round sum for the services you are
going to render us, can't you? Come! how much do you require?"
The robber chief reflected.
"Well, as it is your honours' own business I hope your honours won't say
that I tax you too highly. Let us look at the job in this way: suppose I
came to the attack with seventeen companies, and I charge one thousand
thalers for each company. Let us say each company consists of one
thousand men, that will be a thaler per head--and what is that, 'twill
barely pay for their keep. Thus the whole round sum will come to
seventeen thousand thalers."
"That won't do at all, Master Koekenyesdi. 'Twere a shame to fatigue so
many gallant fellows for nothing, but suppose you bring with you only a
hundred men and the rest remain comfortably at home? In that case you
shall receive from us seventeen hundred florins in hard cash."
"Pooh!" snapped the robber, "what does your honour take me for, eh? Do
you suppose you are dealing with a gipsy chief or a Wallachian bandit,
who are paid in pence? Why, I wouldn't saddle my horse for such a
trifle, I had rather sleep the whole time away."
"But you have so much treasure besides," observed Raining naively.
"But we may not break into it," rejoined the robber angrily.
"Why not?"
"Because we have agreed not to make use of till it has mounted up to a
million florins."
"And what will you do with it then?"
"We shall then buy a vacant kingdom from the Tartar king, where the
pasturage is good, and thither we will go with our men and set up an
empire of our own. We will buy enough pretty women from the Turks for us
all, and be our own masters."
Topay smiled.
"Well," said he, "this seventeen hundred florins of ours will at any
rate purchase one of the counties in this kingdom of yours." He was
greatly amused that Raining should take the robber's yarn so seriously,
and he pushed the German gentleman aside. "Mr. Koekenyesdi," said he,
"you have nothing to do with this worthy man; he is come with us only to
see the fun, but it is we who pay the money, and I think we understand
each other pretty well."
"Why didn't you tell me so sooner?" said the robber sulkily, "then I
shouldn't have wasted so many words. With which of you am I to bargain?"
"With this young gentleman here," said Topay. "Ladislaus Rakoczy. I
suppose you know him by report?"
"Know him? I should think I did. Haven't I carried him in my arms when
he was little? If it hadn't been so dark I should have recognised him at
once. Well, as it is he, I don't mind doing him a good turn. I certainly
wouldn't have taken a florin less from anyone else. I'll take from _him_
the offer of seventeen hundred thalers."
"Seventeen hundred florins, _I_ said."
"I tell your honour, you said thalers--thalers was what _I_ heard, and I
won't undertake the job for less; may my hand and leg wither if I move
a step for less."
"Oh, I'll give him his thalers," said Rakoczy, interrupting the dispute;
whereupon the robber seized the youth's hand and shook it joyfully.
"Didn't I know that your honour was the finest fellow of the three?"
said the robber. "If, therefore, you will send these few trumpery
thalers a week hence to the house of the worthy man who guided you
hither, I will be at Grosswardein a week later with my seventeen hundred
fellows."
"But, suppose we pay you in advance, and you don't turn up?" said
Raining anxiously.
The robber looked at the quartermaster proudly.
"Do you take me for a common swindler?" said he. Then he turned with a
movement of confiding expansion to the other gentlemen.
"We understand each other better," he remarked. "Your honours may depend
upon me. God be with you."
With that he turned his horse and galloped off into the darkness. The
three gentlemen were conducted back to Ladany.
"Marvellous fellow, this Koekenyesdi," said Raining, who had scarce
recovered yet from his astonishment.
"You mustn't believe all the yarns he chooses to tell you," said Topay.
"What!" inquired Raining. "Had he then no communications with the French
and English Courts?"
"No more than his grandmother."
"Then how about those treasures of which he spoke?"
"He himself has never seen them, and he only talked about them to give
you a higher opinion of him."
"And his castle in the puszta, and his seventeen companies of
freebooters?"
"He invented them entirely for your honour's edification. The freebooter
is no fool, he lives in no castle in the puszta, but in a simple
village as modest Mr. Koekenyesdi, and his seventeen companies scarcely
amount to more than seventeen hundred men."
"Then why did he consent so easily to take only seventeen hundred
thalers?"
"Because he does not mean to give his lads a single farthing of it."
Raining shook his head, and grumbled to himself all the way home.
* * * * *
In a week's time they sent to Koekenyesdi the stipulated money. Raining,
moreover, fearing lest the fellow might forget the fixed time, did not
hesitate to go personally to Vasarhely, to seek him at his own door.
There stood Master Koekenyesdi in his threshing-floor, picking his teeth
with a straw.
"Good-day," said the quartermaster.
"If it's good, eat it," murmured Koekenyesdi to himself.
"Don't you know me?"
"Blast me if I do."
"Then don't you remember what you promised at the Baratfa inn?"
"I don't know where the Baratfa inn is."
"Then haven't you received the seventeen hundred thalers?"
"What should I receive seventeen hundred thalers for?"
"Don't joke, the appointed time has come."
"What appointed time?"
"What appointed time? And you who have to be at Grosswardein with
seventeen hundred men!"
"Seventeen oxen and seventeen herdsmen on their backs, I suppose you
mean."
"Well, a pretty mess we are in now," said Raining to himself as he
wrathfully trotted back to Debreczen, and as he rushed into Rakoczy's
room exclaiming, "Well, Koekenyesdi has toasted us finely!" there stood
Koekenyesdi before his very eyes.
"What, you here?"
"Yes, I am; and another time your honour will know that whenever I am at
my own place I am not at home."
* * * * *
It was the Friday before Whit Sunday, and the time about evening. A
great silence rested over the whole district, only from the minarets of
Varalja one Imam answered another, and from the tombs one shepherd dog
answered his fellow: it was impossible to distinguish from which of the
two the howling proceeded.
A couple of turbaned gentlemen were leisurely strolling along the
bastions. Above the palisaded gate the torso of a square-headed Tartar
was visible, with his elbows resting on the ramparts, holding his long
musket in his hand. The Tartar sentinel was gazing with round open eyes
into the black night, watching lest anyone should come from the
direction in which he was aiming with his gun, and blowing vigorously at
the lunt to prevent its going out. While he was thus anxiously on the
watch, it suddenly seemed to him as if he discerned the shape of a
horseman approaching the city.
In such cases the orders given to the Osmanli sentinels were of the
simplest description: they were to shoot everyone who approached in the
night-time without a word.
The Tartar only waited until the man had come nearer, and then, placing
his long musket on the moulding of the gate, began to take aim with it.
But the approaching horseman rode his steed as oddly as only Hungarian
_csikosok_[10] can do, for he bobbed perpetually from the right to the
left, and dodged backwards and forwards in the most aggravating manner.
[Footnote 10: Horse-dealers.]
"Allah pluck thy skin from off thee, thou drunken Giaour," murmured the
baffled Tartar to himself, as he found all his aiming useless; for just
as he was about to apply the lunt, the _csikos_ was no longer there, and
the next moment he stood at the very end of his musket. "May all the
seven-and-seventy hells have a little bit of thee! Why canst thou not
remain still for a moment that I may fire at thee?"
Meanwhile the shape had gradually come up to the very gate.
"Don't come any nearer," cried the Tartar, "or I shan't be able to shoot
thee."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" said the other. "Then why didn't you tell me so
sooner? But don't hold your musket so near to me, it may go off of its
own accord."
We recognise in the _csikos_ Koekenyesdi, whose horse now began to prance
about to such an extent that it was impossible for the Tartar to take a
fair aim at it.
"I bring a letter for Haly Pasha, from the Defterdar of Lippa," said the
_csikos_, searching for something in the pocket of his fur pelisse, so
far as his caracolling steed would allow him. "Catch it if you don't
want to come through the gate for it."
"Well, fling it up here," murmured the sentinel, "and then be off again,
but ride decently that I may have a shot."
"Thank you, my worthy Mr. Dog-headed Hero; but look out and catch what I
throw to you."
And with that he drew out a roll of parchment and flung it up to the top
of the gate. The Tartar, with his eyes fixed on the missive, did not
perceive that the _csikos_, at the same time, threw up a long piece of
cord, and the sense of the joke did not burst upon him until the
_csikos_ drew in the noose, and he felt it circling round his body.
Koekenyesdi turned round suddenly, twisted the cord round the forepart of
his horse, and clapping the spurs to its side, began galloping off.
Naturally, in about a moment the Tartar had descended from the top of
the gate without either musket or lunt, and the cord being well lassoed
round his body, he plumped first into the moat, a moment afterwards
reappeared on the top of the trench, and was carried with the velocity
of lightning through bushes and briars. Being quite unused to this mode
of progression, and vainly attempting to cling by hand or foot to the
trees and shrubs which met him in his way, he began to bellow with all
his might, at which terrible uproar the other sentries behind the
ramparts were aroused, and, perceiving that some horseman or other was
compelling one of their comrades to follow after him in this merciless
fashion, they mounted their horses, and throwing open the gate, plunged
after him.
As for Koekenyesdi, he trotted on in front of them, drawing the Tartar
horde farther and farther after him till he reached a willow-wood, when
he turned aside and whistled, and instantly fifty stout fellows leaped
forth from the thicket on swift horses with _csakanys_[11] in their
hands, so that the pursuing Turks were fairly caught.
[Footnote 11: Long-handled hammers.]
They turned tail, however, in double-quick time, having no great love of
the _csakanys_, and never stopped till they reached the gate of the
fortress, within the walls of which they yelled to their heart's
content, that Koekenyesdi's robbers were at hand, had leaped the cattle
trench at a single bound, seized a good part of the herds and were
driving the beasts before them; whereupon, some hundreds of Spahis set
off in pursuit of the audacious adventurers. When, however, the robbers
had reached the River Koeroes, they halted, faced about and stood up to
their pursuers man to man, and the encounter had scarce begun when the
Spahis grew alive to the fact that their opponents, who at first had
barely numbered fifty, had grown into a hundred, into two hundred, and
at last into five or six hundred: from out of the thickets, the ridges,
and the darkness, fresh shapes were continually galloping to the
assistance of their comrades, while from the fortress the Turks came
rushing out on each other's heels in tens and twenties to the help of
the Spahis, so that by this time the greater part of the garrison had
emerged to pounce upon Koekenyesdi's freebooters; when suddenly, the
battle-cry resounded from every quarter and from the other side of the
Koeroes, whence nobody expected it, the _banderium_[12] of the gentry of
Barodsag rushed forth, and swam right across the river; while from the
direction of Varad-Olaszi, amidst the rolling of drums, Ladislaus
Rakoczy came marching along with the infantry of Szathmar.
[Footnote 12: Mounted troops.]
"Forward!" cried the youth, holding the banner in his hand, and he was
the first who placed his foot on the storming-ladder. The terrified
garrison, after firing their muskets in the air, abandoned the ramparts
and fled into the citadel.
Rakoczy got into the town before the Spahis who were fighting with
Koekenyesdi, and who now, at the sound of the uproar, would have fled
back through the town to take refuge in the citadel, but came into
collision with the cavalry of Topay, who reached the gates of the town
at the same moment that they did, and both parties, crowding together
before the gates, desperately tried to get possession of them, during
which tussle the contending hosts for a moment were wedged together into
a maddened mass, in which the antagonists could recognise each other
only from their war-cries; when, all at once, from the middle of the
town, a huge column of fire whirled up into the air, illuminating the
faces of the combatants. The fact was that Koekenyesdi had hit upon the
good idea of connecting a burning lunt with the tops of the houses, and
making a general blaze, so that at least the people could see one
another. By this hideous illumination the Spahis suddenly perceived that
Rakoczy's infantry had broken through the ramparts in one place, and
that a sturdy young heyduke had just hoisted the banner of the Blessed
Virgin on the top of the eastern gate.
"This is the day of death," cried the Aga of the Spahis in despair; and
drawing his sword from its sheath, he planted himself in the gateway,
and fought desperately till his comrades had taken refuge in the town,
and he himself fell covered with wounds. It was over his body that the
Hungarians rushed through the gates after the flying Spahis.
At that moment a fresh cry resounded from the fortress: "Ali! Ali!" The
Pasha himself was advancing with his picked guards, with the valiant
Janissaries, with those good marksmen, the Szaracsies, who can pierce
with a bullet a thaler flung into the air, and with the veteran
Mamelukes, who can fight with sword and lance at the same time. He
himself rode in advance of his host on his war-horse, his big red face
aflame with rage; in front of him his standard-bearer bore the triple
horse-tail, on each side of which strode a negro headsman with a
broadsword.
"Come hither, ye faithless dogs! Is the world too narrow for ye that ye
come to die here? By the shadow of Allah, I swear it, ye shall all be
sent to hell this day, and I will ravage your kingdom ten leagues round.
Come hither, ye impure swine-eaters! Your heads shall be brought to
market; everyone who brings in the head of a Christian shall receive a
ducat, and he who brings in a captive shall die."
Thus the Pasha roared, stormed, and yelled at the same time; while Topay
tried to marshal once more his men who were scattering before the fire
of the Turks, galloping from street to street, and re-forming his
terrified squadrons to make head against the solid host of the advancing
Turks, which was rapidly gaining ground, while Koekenyesdi's followers
only thought of booty.
"A hundred ducats to him who shoots down that son of a dog!" thundered
the Pasha, pointing out the ubiquitous Topay, and, finding it impossible
to get near him, roared after him: "Thou cowardly puppy! whither art
thou running? Look me in the face, canst thou not?"
Topay heard the exclamation and shouted back very briefly:
"I saw _thy_ back at Banfi-Hunyad."[13]
[Footnote 13: See "'Midst the Wild Carpathians," Book
II., Chapter IV.]
At this insult Ali Pasha's gall overflowed, and seizing his mace, he
aimed a blow with it at Topay, when suddenly a sharp crackling
cross-fire resounded from a neighbouring lane, and amidst the thick
clouds of smoke, Rakoczy's musketeers appeared, sticking their daggers
into their discharged firearms, a practise to which the bayonet owed its
origin at a later day. The Turkish cavalry, crowded together in the
narrow street, was in a few moments demoralised by this rapid assault.
The improvised bayonet told terribly in the crush, swords and darts were
powerless against it.
"Allah is great!" cried Ali. "Hasten into the fortress and draw up the
bridge, we are only perishing here. Only the fortress remains to us."
His conductors, against his will, seized his bridle, and dragged him
along with them; and when a valiant musketeer, drawing near to him, cut
down his charger, the terrified Pasha clambered up into the saddle of
one of his headsmen, and took refuge behind his back.
A young Hungarian horseman was constantly on his track. Nobody could
tell Ali who he was, but one could see from his face that he was the
Pasha's fiercest enemy, and animated by something more than mere martial
ardour. This young horseman gave no heed to the bullets or blades which
were directed against him; he was bent only on bloodshed.
It was young Rakoczy, to whom bitterness had given strength a
hundredfold. Forcing his way through the flying hostile rabble, he was
drawing nearer and nearer to Ali every moment, cutting down one by one
all who barred the way between him and the Pasha, and the Turks quailed
before his strong hands and savage looks.
At length they reached the bridge, which was built upon piles, between
deep bulwarks, and led into the fortress, the front part of whose gate
was fortified by iron plates and huge nails, and could be drawn up to
the gate of the tower by round chains. On the summit of the tower of the
citadel could still be seen the equestrian statue of St. Ladislaus
derisively turned upside down between the severed legs of two felons.
The Hungarians and the Turks reached the bridge together so intermingled
that the only thing to be seen was a confused mass of turbans and
helmets, in the midst of a forest of swords and scimitars, with the
banner of the Blessed Virgin cheek by jowl with the crescented
horse-tails.
At the gate of the citadel stood two long widely gaping
eighteen-pounders commanding the bridge, filled with chain, shot, and
ground nails; but the Komparajis dare not use their cannons, for in
whatever direction they might aim, there were quite as many Turks as
Hungarians. On the bridge itself the foes were fighting man to man.
Rakoczy was at that moment fighting with the bearer of the triple
horse-tail, striving to take the standard pole with his left hand, while
he aimed blow after blow at his antagonist with his right.
"Shoot them down, you good-for-nothings!" roared Ali Pasha, turning back
to the inactive and contumacious Komparajis. "Reck not whether your
bullets sweep away as many Mussulmans as Hungarians, myself included!
Sweep the bridge clear, I say! Life is cheap, but Paradise is dear!"
But the gunners still hesitated to fire amongst their comrades, when Ali
sent two drummers to them commanding them to aim their guns aloft and
fire into the air.
The contest on the bridge was raging furiously; the Janissaries had
placed their backs against the parapet, and there stood motionless, with
their huge broad-swords in their naked fists, like a fence of living
scythes, tearing into ribbons everything which came between them.
Then it occurred to a regiment of German Drabants to clamber up the
parapet of the bridge, and tear the Janissaries away from the parapet;
some ten or twenty of these Drabants did scramble up on the bridge, when
the parapet suddenly gave way beneath the double weight, and Janissaries
and Drabants fell down into the deep moat beneath, throttling each other
in the water, and whenever a turbaned head appeared above the surface,
the Germans standing at the foot of the bridge beat out its brains with
their halberds.
Meanwhile, the two fighting heroes in the middle of the bridge were
almost exhausted by the contest. They had already hacked each other's
swords to pieces, had grasped the banner, the object of the struggle,
with both hands, and were tearing away at it with ravening wrath.
The Turkish standard-bearer then suddenly pressed his steed with his
knees, making it rear up beneath him, so that the Turk stood now a head
and shoulder higher than Rakoczy, and threatened either to oust him from
his saddle or tear the standard from his hand.
At that moment the white figure of a girl appeared on the summit of the
rampart of the tower, her black locks streaming in the wind, her face
aglow with enthusiasm.
"Heaven help thee, Ladislaus!" cried the girl from the battlement of the
tower; and the youth, hearing from on high what sounded like a voice
from heaven, recognised it, looked up and saw his bride--a superhuman
strength arose in his heart and in his arm, and when the Turkish
standard-bearer made his charger rear, Rakoczy suddenly let the
flag-pole go, and seizing the bridle of the snorting steed with both
hands, with one Herculean thrust, flung back steed, rider, and banner
through the palisade into the deep moat below.
"There is no hope save with God!" cried Ali in despair, for his
terrified people at the sight of this prodigy had dragged him along with
them against his will.
"Ladislaus! Ladislaus! My darling!" resounded from above. The youth was
fighting with the strength of ten men; three horses had already been
shot under him, and a third sword was flashing in his hand. Already he
was standing on the drawbridge; his sweetheart threw down a white
handkerchief to him, and he was already waving it above his head in
triumph, when a well-directed bullet pierced the young hero's heart, and
he collapsed a corpse on the very threshold of his success, in the very
gate of the captured fortress at the feet of his beloved.
At that same instant a heart-rending shriek resounded, and from the top
of the tower a white shape fell down upon the bridge; the beautiful
bride, from a height of thirty feet, had cast herself down on the dead
body of her beloved, and died at the same instant as he, mingling their
blood together; and if their arms did not, at least their souls could,
embrace each other.
This spectacle so stupefied the besiegers, that Ali Pasha had just time
enough swiftly to raise the drawbridge and save the fortress and a
fragment of his host. Of those who remained outside, not a single soul
survived. Koekenyesdi massacred without mercy everything which distantly
resembled a Turk, together with the camels and mules, sparing nothing
but the horses, and when every house had been well plundered, he set the
town on fire in twelve places, so that the flames in half an hour
consumed everything, and the whole city blazed away like a gigantic
bonfire, the rising wind whirling the smoke and flame over the ditch
towards the fortress.
"Ali Pasha may put that in his pipe and smoke it," said Koekenyesdi,
rejoicing at the magnificent conflagration.
* * * * *
But the bodies of Ladislaus Rakoczy and his sweetheart they bore away,
and buried them side by side in the family vault at Rakas.