MISTAKE THE SECOND.
The day had closed gloomily, ominously, for the refugees; and to
understand how it was that a king so chivalrous as Béla could consent to
make a prisoner of his guest, we must go back and see what had taken
place a few hours earlier.
Béla, as already said, was fully alive to the danger which threatened
his land and people, and at the first news of the advance of the
Mongols, he had sent Héderváry the Palatine to block all the roads and
passes between Transylvania and Wallachia, and make full arrangements
for their defence. But even this prudent step was not approved by every
one. The wiseacres, and the sort of people who always see farther than
their fellows, attributed the King's orders to fear, and said so too,
openly and unreservedly.
There were others who simply refused to believe any alarming reports,
alleging that they were all got up by the bishops and chief clergy, that
they might have an excuse for staying at home at ease, instead of
attending the Pope's Council in Rome.
Others accused the King, the Kunok, and other foreign guests who had
lately arrived at the Court of Pest.
Some of these, the most timorous, actually wanted to force the King to
send an embassy to the Great Khan, offering him an annual tribute and
other shameful conditions.
Béla was a courageous man, and a true Magyar and king in the best sense
of the words. He was calm, brave, and energetic. He saw through the
cowards and despised their accusations; for it is the poltroon who is
ever the first to accuse others of cowardice, and there is, moreover,
one thing which he can never pardon--the being discovered trembling by
men braver than himself.
King Béla paid no heed to the wagging of these many tongues, and himself
went all round the eastern frontiers of the kingdom, to see personally
to the defences. His plans were well considered and well adapted to the
object in view. They failed in one point only, but that a fatal
one--they were never carried out!
On the King's return to Pest, he found the capital given up to
festivity. Nearly every noble in the place must be giving
entertainments. If there was a banquet at one house to-day, there was
one at another to-morrow. There was no trace of any preparations for war
or defence, though there was plenty of nervous alarm.
Shortly after his arrival, the King called a Council, and the heads of
Church and State met in a spacious hall often used for Court balls and
assemblies, now presenting a very different appearance, and with its
walls draped in sober green cloth.
The King was seated in a canopied armchair raised above the rest, and he
wore a white silk mantle, with a clasp something like the ancient Roman
fibula, but set with precious stones. On his head was a crown, simple
but brilliant, in his hand he held a golden war-club, and from the plain
leather belt which confined his white dolmány at the waist, there hung a
long, straight sword, with a hilt in the form of a large cross.
The Council consisted of about sixty members, some wearing their
ecclesiastical vestments, and others the long Hungarian dolmány. Of all
those present no one looked so entirely calm as the King, and those who
knew him best could read firm resolve in his face.
Béla knew Hungary and the strength of its various races, and he was
never afraid of dangers from without. What he did fear was the spirit of
obstinacy and envy, and at last of blindness, which has so often shown
itself, just when clear sight and absolute unity were especially needed
to enable the country to confront the most serious difficulties.
He knew that he must prove the existence of danger by facts, if he
wanted to silence the contentious tongues of those who did not wish to
believe; and he had determined to lay convincing proofs before them on
this particular day.
When all were assembled and in their places, the King made a sign to
Paul Héderváry, who at once left the hall, the door of which was shortly
after again thrown open for the entrance of two gloomy-looking men, with
swords and daggers at their belts, whom Paul ushered up to the King's
throne. Their robes, trimmed with costly furs, showed that they were
persons of importance; and what with the richness of their attire, and
their manly deportment, they did not fail to make an impression upon the
assembly, though one of the younger members muttered to his neighbour,
"Hem! Flat noses and glittering eyes! Who may these be?"
The two bowed low before the king, and then one of them, Románovics by
name, said: "Your Majesty, we are both Russian dukes, and have been
driven from the broad lands of our ancestors, by Batu Khan, one of
Oktai's chiefs. We have now come to your footstool, to entreat your
hospitality, and to offer you our services."
"More guests!" whispered the same young man who had spoken before.
"Kunok, Russians, and next, of course, the Tartars, not a doubt of it!"
The broad smile on his face showed that he was highly pleased with his
own wit.
"Honourable guests will always find the door open in Hungary," said the
King, when the short speech had been interpreted to him; "and all who
are oppressed shall have whatever protection we are able to afford
them."
"More too! Oh, what generous fellows we are!" muttered another still
younger man at the table.
The King went on to say that he had heard of the Russian disasters, but
that as the news which had reached him might have lost or gained
something on the way, he should be glad if they would tell him and the
Council just what had really happened.
Whereupon, the Duke who had spoken before gave a short account of all
that had taken place since the death of Dschingis, and the partition of
his vast dominions. And then the younger Duke, Wsewolodovics, took up
the tale.
"Lord King!" he began, "these Mongols don't carry on warfare in an
honourable, chivalrous way. They fight only to destroy, they are
bloodthirsty, merciless; their only object is to plunder, slay, murder,
and burn, not even to make any use of what lands they conquer. They are
like a swarm of locusts. They stay till everything is eaten up, till all
are plundered, and what they can't carry off, that they kill, or reduce
to ashes. They are utterly faithless; their words and promises are not
in the least to be trusted, and those who do make friends with them are
the first upon whom they wreak their vengeance if anything goes wrong.
We are telling you no fairy tales! We know to our own cost what they
are, we tell you what we have seen with our own eyes. And let me tell
you this, my lord king, their lust of conquest and devastation knows _no
bounds_! If it is our turn to-day, it will be yours to-morrow! And,
therefore, while we seek a refuge in your land, we at the same time warn
you to be prepared! for the storm is coming, and may sweep across your
frontiers sooner than you think for."
"We will meet it, if it comes," said the King coolly. "But I bid you
both heartily welcome as our guests for the present, and as our
companions in arms, if the enemy ventures to come hither."
The Dukes found nothing to complain of in the King's reception of them.
He had been cordial and encouraging, and he had heard them out; though,
what with their own long speeches, and the interpreting of them, the
interview had lasted a considerable time.
But if the King had listened attentively and courteously, so had not the
Council; and the contrast was marked. Some listened coldly and without
interest, some even wore a contemptuous smile, and there was a restless
shrugging of shoulders, a making of signs one to the other, and at times
an interchange of whispers among the members, which showed plainly
enough that they thought the greater part of what the Russians said
ridiculously exaggerated.
Councils, even those held in the King's presence, were by no means
orderly in those days. Everyone present wanted to put in his word, and
that, too, just as and when he pleased, so the Duke had hardly finished
speaking, when up rose one of the elder and more important-looking
nobles, exclaiming impatiently, "Your Majesty! These foreign lords have
told us very fully to what we owe their present kind visit; and they
have told us, too, that our country is threatened by ruffianly,
contemptible brigands and incendiaries. There is but one thing they have
forgotten. I should like to know whether this horde of would-be
conquerors have any courage, discipline, or knowledge of war among them.
It seems to me important that they should tell us this in their own
interests, for it needs no great preparation to scatter a disorderly
rabble, but valiant warriors are, of course, another thing."
"Very true, Master Tibörcs," said the King calmly, patiently.
But when the matter was explained to the Russian Duke, he exclaimed,
with an expression of the utmost horror and contempt, "Valiant!
disciplined! military knowledge! Why, my lord king, who could expect
anything of the sort from such thieves and robbers! But, despicable as
they are as soldiers, they are dangerous for all that! They are cowards!
They are as wild as cattle, as senseless as stones, but--they have
numbers, countless numbers, on their side. They fall in thousands, and
they use the dead and wounded to bridge the rivers! And they are swift
as the very wind."
Several at the table here exclaimed that the Duke must be magnifying, or
at least that he had heard exaggerated reports; and one of the most
timorous added that to a man who was terrified danger always looked
greater than it did to anyone else in the world. That man, at all
events, knew what he was talking about!
"We are not afraid, gentlemen," said Románovics, turning at once towards
those seated at the table. "We are exhausted with fighting ourselves,
and their blood, too, has flowed in torrents; ten of them have fallen to
every one of our men, but then their numbers are ten times ours."
"Afraid of them?" continued the other, "No! who would be afraid of such
cowardly robbers? Why, ten will run before one man, if he meets them
face to face! We don't say they are invincible, quite the contrary. We
come here in the belief that the heroic nation from whom we seek
assistance is quite strong enough to be a match even for such a torrent
as this! Nevertheless, there is one thing which must not be forgotten.
Though there is no military knowledge among them, though they are not
trained soldiers, they are extremely clever with their war-machines.
Nothing can stand against them! And there is another thing. Those who
are conquered are forced into their army; what is more, they are put in
the forefront of the battle, in the place of greatest danger, and they
are driven forward, or murdered if they attempt to escape! So, with
danger before and behind, the miserable wretches fight with all the
strength of despair; the victors share the spoil, and those who are
defeated have nothing to expect but death any way, and sometimes a death
of fearful torture too. This, together with their extraordinary rapidity
of movement, their cunning, and powers of endurance, is the secret of
their strength."
So spoke the Russian Dukes, and their words made a certain impression,
though even now some of the Council were hardly convinced of the
importance of the danger. Many were scornful of the new-comers, and
various contrary opinions were being expressed, when all at once there
was a roar outside as if a battle were already going on in the streets,
and some of the palace guards rushed into the Council chamber.
All leapt to their feet. Swords all flashed simultaneously from their
scabbards, and in a moment, Béla was surrounded, and over his head there
was a canopy of iron blades. To do them justice, their first thought was
for the safety of the King.
"What has happened?" he asked of the guards, when the hubbub around him
had subsided.
"The people have risen! They are asking for the head of Kuthen," was the
answer.
There was a shout of "Treachery, treachery, treachery!" without, and the
next instant the mob burst into the hall.
"Gentlemen! to your places! put up your swords," said the King, in such
a peremptory tone that his command was at once obeyed. Then rising from
his chair and turning to the intruders with perfect calm and dignity, he
bade them come forward.
"The King is always ready to hear the complaints of his people! What is
it you want, children? But let one speak at a time, that will be the
wiser way, for if you all clamour together, my sons, I shall not be able
to understand any one of you. Ah! you are there, I see Barkó _deák_;
come here, you are a sensible man, I know; you tell me what is the
matter."
Barkó was a notable man in his own set, and his sobriquet of _deák_
showed that he possessed some learning, at least to the extent of being
able to write, and having some knowledge of the Scriptures, as well as
of the laws, called "customs."
He was a man whose judgment was respected, and when first suspicion fell
upon the Kunok, he was besieged by those who wanted his advice as to how
they ought to act in these dangerous circumstances.
Now, on the days when Barkó got out of bed right foot foremost, he would
calm his inquirers by saying wisely enough that until Kuthen himself was
detected in some suspicious act, the time had not come for accusing him.
But, unfortunately, Barkó was not without his domestic troubles in the
shape of a wife, who would always have the last word, and so sometimes
it happened that he got up left foot foremost.
It was on one of these unlucky days that the people of Pest and the
neighbourhood, having somehow heard, as people always do hear, that the
King was holding a Council for the purpose of taking measures of defence
against the Mongols, "Tartars," as they called them, came with one
consent to Barkó's house, and swarmed into it in such numbers that he
leapt out of the window to escape them. But no sooner had his feet
touched the ground than they were at once taken off it again, and he was
caught up and raised on high, amid loud shouts from the crowd that he
must be their leader and spokesman.
"What am I to do? What do you want?" he cried.
"Let's go to the King! Treachery! The Kunok are bringing the Tartars
upon us! We want the head of Kuthen!"
Such were the cries which assailed him on all sides, and Barkó let them
shout till they were tired.
"Very well, children," he said, as soon as there was a chance of making
himself heard. "Very well, we will go to his Majesty. He will listen to
his faithful people and find some way of putting an end to the
mischief."
"We will go now!" they shouted.
"No! let's wait!" roared a grey-beard, with a shake of his shaggy head,
using his broad shoulders and sharp elbows to force a way through the
crowd.
"We won't go to the King! We'll go straight to the other King, the
vagabond and traitor Kuthen. We will take his treacherous head to our
own good King!"
"Good! good!" cried the mob.
"It is not good!" shouted Barkó. "It is for the King to command, it is
for us to ask. If I am to be your leader, trust the matter to me."
"Let us trust it to Mr. Barkó," cried some voices again.
"So then, I am the leader, and if we want to go before the King's
Majesty, let us do it respectfully, not as if we were a rabble going to
a tavern. Here! make room for me! put me down!"
And Barkó puffed and panted, and shook himself, as if he had swum across
the Danube.
Then he called three or four of the crowd to him to help in forming up
some sort of procession.
"There! I go in the middle, as the leader, and you, the army, will march
in two files after me."
"But we are here, too, Mr. Barkó!" cried some shriller voices.
"The petticoats will bring up the rear!" said Mr. Barkó authoritatively.
And in this order the crowd proceeded on its way; but, notwithstanding
all Barkó's precautions, it was a very tumultuous crowd which burst into
the King's presence.
Barkó had made the journey bare-headed; and now, being called upon to
speak, he bowed low before the King, saying: "Your Majesty! Grace be
upon my head. Since the devil is bringing the Tartars upon us, the
people humbly beg the head of the traitor Kuthen! And we will bring it
to you, if you will only give us the command, your Majesty!"
"It shall be here directly, and the heads of all his brood, too!" cried
Barkó's followers.
Barkó, seeing that the King did not speak, turned to them, saying in a
tone of command, "Silence! I will speak, asking the King's grace upon my
head."
And turning again to the King he added, "If we don't root them out, my
lord King, the Tartars will find the banquet all made ready for them
when they come. The vagabonds in the country-districts are already
laying hands on property not their own, and behaving just as if they
were at home."
One or two voices from among the crowd echoed these complaints, and
added others as to the disrespect shown to the Magyar women.
"Silence," interrupted Barkó. "Let us hear his Majesty, our lord the
King. What he commands that we will do, and we must not do anything
else," he added, by way of showing that he could read writing, and was
acquainted with the style in which the royal commands were expressed.
The King heard all without appearing in the least disturbed, while those
at the table kept their hands all the time on their swords, and it was
by no means without emotion that the two Russian Dukes looked on at
this, to them, very novel kind of Council, and at this unconventional
way of approaching the King's presence.
At last there was silence. Barkó had said his say, and the cries and
exclamations of his followers having subsided, the King addressed them
and him.
First he praised him for his discretion in coming to seek counsel of the
King, and then he reminded him that a good king was also a just judge.
But a just judge always heard both sides of a question before he gave
judgment. If, therefore, he were now to give his consent to what his
faithful children wished, and were to deliver King Kuthen, who was both
his guest and theirs, into their hands, and that without hearing him as
he had heard them, why, then he would be a bad judge, and therefore not
a good king. Moreover, if he were unjust in one case he might be so in
another.
"If, for instance," said he, "Paul came to me with a complaint against
Peter, we might have Mr. Peter's head cut off; and if Peter accused
Paul, we might have Paul beheaded. For, my children, others have as much
right to justice as ourselves; therefore, hear our commands, and as my
faithful servant, the honourable Mr. Barkó has said, observe them and do
nothing else."
All eyes were fixed upon the King, and they listened with wrapt
attention and in perfect silence as he proceeded:
"Strict inquiry shall be made as to whether there be any real ground of
suspicion against King Kuthen; and if there is, he and his people shall
be punished! But we must let the law take its course, and my dear
citizens of Pest may wait quietly and confidently while it does. From
this day forth the Kun King will not leave his residence, a guard shall
be placed at his gate, and we will have the matter regularly
investigated without delay."
There was a burst of "Eljens" (vivas) as the King concluded. The people
appeared to be thoroughly satisfied, and when Barkó, after a low
reverence, turned to leave the hall, his followers made a way for him
through their midst, and cleared out after him, quickly at all events,
if not with much dignity.
History tells us that the King's Council was satisfied also, no less
than the people, who had, indeed, been purposely excited by some of the
nobles, and used more or less as a cat's paw. The order that Kuthen
should be guarded was, as we have seen, given and executed forthwith.
Béla had given it most unwillingly, only, in fact, to appease the
excitement, and in the hope of avoiding still worse evils; and though
some were still dissatisfied, this was the case with but few of the
cooler heads.
And the Russian Dukes, when they were able to speak to the King in
private, admitted that numbers of Kunok had indeed been forced by Batu
Khan to serve in his army; but they added that these recruits were only
waiting the first favourable opportunity to desert and join with their
kinsmen, and with the Hungarians, in exterminating the common enemy. And
what they feared was that, if the Kunok heard that their King, whom they
worshipped, was being kept under restraint, they would actually do what
the majority and so many of the chief nobles now without reason
suspected them of.
Béla understood human nature, and to him it seemed that to throw some
sort of sop to Cerberus was wiser than to risk the exciting of greater
discontent.
But again the King made a mistake!