CHAPTER VII.

AT THE VERY DOORS.

The time of which we are writing was a critical one in Hungary's

history. "She was sick, very sick, and the remedy for her disease was

bitter in proportion to the gravity of her condition." (Jókai Mór.)

The power and prestige of the sovereign had lost much under Béla's

predecessors, first his uncle and then his father; for the latter had

rebelled against his brother, and the civil war had increased the

importance of the magnates, while it diminished that of the sovereign.

Béla's father András had succeeded his brother, and had shown himself as

weak, as vain, and as untrustworthy, as king, as he had done as subject.

Béla had inherited many difficulties, and in his eagerness to set

matters right, had been over-hasty, over-arbitrary, and had made enemies

of many of the great nobles by curtailing their extorted privileges.

András, always in need of money, had given and pawned Crown property,

until there was little left. Béla, succeeding to an almost empty

treasury, had recalled some of those donations which never ought to

have been made; and also, by way of instilling respect for the King's

majesty, had withdrawn from the great nobles certain privileges, which

they bitterly resented, for some of them had attained such a pitch of

might and wealth as rendered them independent of the King and the law.

There were two classes of nobles, the magnates and the lesser nobility,

the latter being more and more oppressed by the former. All who owned a

piece of land were "noble," but as their possessions differed greatly in

amount, so some were rich and others very much the reverse.

The nobles of both classes, and the clergy attended the Diets; but the

mass of the people were as yet unrepresented.

Standing army there was hardly any, and when the King wanted troops he

had to raise them, and pay them as he could. Those who held crown-fiefs

were bound to obey the King's call to arms, but at his cost, and not

their own, and all nobles of whatever degree were bound to join his

standard if the country was attacked, not otherwise. If the King wanted

them to cross the frontier, he must bear the expense; and if they did

not choose to go, he was helpless and could not punish them.

But, to be first in the field is often half the battle. To wait until

the enemy is actually in the country may spell disaster and even ruin.

Béla was well aware of the danger which threatened. He had heard much

from Kuthen, and he had other sources of information as well, men who

kept him well posted in all that was going on. Troops he must have if

the country was to be saved; and as the Kunok were always ready for war

he felt obliged to favour them; and, to raise money for the pay of

others, he was obliged to pledge the Crown revenues and to debase the

coinage.

If Hungary had been of one mind in those days, if all had been ready to

rise in her defence as once they would have done, she would have had

little difficulty in driving back the Mongols; but some of the magnates

secretly hoped for a reverse, if so be the King might be thereby

humbled. They little knew!

Rumours as to the advance of the Mongols were rife throughout the

winter; but the month of March, 1241, had arrived, and still there was

nothing to be called an army, in spite of the sending round of the

bloody sword, and in spite of the King's most urgent commands,

entreaties, and personal exertions.

On the 11th of the month came the first note of actual alarm in a

despatch from Héderváry the Palatine, who was guarding the north-eastern

frontier. He announced that the Mongols had reached the pass of Verecz

(almost in a straight line with Kaschau), and that it was impossible for

him to hold them back unless large reinforcements were sent to him at

once.

The King, meanwhile, had despatched ambassadors to his old enemy

Friedrich, of Austria, urging him in his own interest to come to the

help of Hungary. To the Kunok in their new settlements he had also sent

orders to mount at once, and they required no second bidding, but set

out immediately for the camp.

The Queen and Court had left Pest for Pressburg, whither all who took

the coming danger in the least seriously, and many even who professed to

think little of it, had sent their womankind. The few who dared run the

risk of leaving them in country houses, with moats and walls as their

sole defence, were nobles whose castles were believed to be

inaccessible, or so far from the frontier and so buried in the woods,

that they had every reason to hope that they would remain undiscovered.

The Hédervárys and the Szirmays were not of this number, always

excepting Master Peter; for, such was their reputation for wealth, that

it seemed only too likely that, to save their own skins and perhaps

share the spoil, some of their servants and dependants might turn

traitors and betray them to the Mongols. They, therefore, were among the

first to send their wives and children to Pressburg, lavishly provided

with all that they might need, and accompanied by brilliant trains of

men-at-arms.

Pressburg was full to overflowing, and to every man there were at least

ten women. Jolánta, of course, was there, and was daily looking forward

to the pleasure of seeing Dora; not doubting for a moment that her

uncle would send her with all speed as soon as he himself left home to

join the army.

But the days had passed, and not only had Dora not come, but no one knew

where she was, or anything about her. There was no little wonderment at

this among those whose minds were sufficiently at leisure to wonder

about anything not immediately concerning themselves or their families.

It was odd that Master Peter should have stayed so long in Pest without

her, a thing he had never done before; it was odder still that he should

not have sent her to Pressburg, out of harm's way. Surely he must have

placed her somewhere to be taken care of! He could never think of

leaving her at home, and alone, when the time of his absence was likely

to be so uncertain. They knew, indeed, that his ancient hall was so

buried in dense woods, and so surrounded by ravine-like valleys, that no

one would be likely to find it unless they knew of its existence and

went there for the purpose; yet at the same time, as he and Stephen had

been busy collecting their troops, and seemed to consider preparations

of some sort necessary, he would surely never be satisfied to leave Dora

alone in a place which, though strong enough to resist any ordinary foe,

would certainly not be safe from the thieving, burning Tartars, if they

should discover it.

And yet, in spite of all these conjectures, that was precisely what

Master Peter had done. We have already mentioned his reasons for not

taking his daughter to Pest. The same reasons prevented his sending her

to Pressburg. He would not have her exposed to sneers, perhaps insults,

when he was not at hand to protect her.

Dora herself was quite against going to swell the Queen's train; and her

father was more than a little hurt that, whereas her Majesty (so Paul's

mother told him with satisfaction) had especially summoned Jolánta to

join her with all speed, she had not said a word to show that she even

remembered Dora.

What Dora wished was to follow her father and share all his dangers,

labours, and hardships--no such very uncommon thing in those days, when

women were often safer with their fathers, husbands, and brothers, than

they could be anywhere else. Her father was Dora's first thought, as she

was his; but at first he would not give her any decided answer. The

Mongols were not yet in the country; and he and his brother, though they

loyally obeyed the King's orders, were among those who thought him far

too anxious, and his preparations more than were necessary.

At all events, he would not take her with him when he set out with his

troop for the camp at Pest, but he promised, if he could not find any

better way of ensuring her safety, that he would come later on, put her

in a coat of armour, and take her with him. The only question was where

she had better stay meantime, and he decided that on the whole home

would be best.

The seneschal, or governor, was a gloomy and rather lazy man, but

thoroughly honourable. Peter knew what a bold, brave man he was when it

was a question of bears, wolves, and wild boars, and in his simplicity

he argued with himself that courage was courage and that a man

courageous in one way must needs be courageous in all!

Peter would have liked much to take with him Talabor, of whom he had

lately grown quite fond, but it suddenly flashed across him that in any

case of unexpected danger, the younger man, full of life and energy,

would not be less courageous than the portly seneschal, while he would

certainly be more active and resourceful. Talabor, who was burning to

accompany his good master, was therefore told that for the present he

was to remain at home. Master Peter had a long conversation with him

before his own departure, and gave him full instructions, so far as that

was possible, as to what he was to do in case of accidents, which Peter

himself never in the least expected to occur.

And then he rode away at the head of a very respectable troop, or

"banderium," consisting of the lesser nobility of the neighbourhood, and

of such recruits as he had been able to enlist; and on reaching Pest he

found that the Szirmay contingent, furnished by himself and his brother,

was first in the field. Soon after arrived the King with the troops

which he had been raising himself in the two home-counties.

Pest was becoming daily more like a camp. The streets, the open spaces,

were turned into bivouacs, the officers slept in tents; and, as most of

the men were mounted, on all sides was to be heard the neighing of

horses, tethered by long ropes in the open air. Earthworks were being

hastily thrown up at a considerable distance beyond the walls of the

town, these walls themselves being low and hardly capable of defence, as

they were not everywhere provided even with moats.

Impossible to describe the state of bustle and excitement in which

everyone in Pest was living just then, and at first sight no one would

have discovered anything like fear in the animated and hilarious crowd

which filled the thoroughfares. The Mongols were spoken of in terms of

the utmost contempt as a wild, undisciplined, unorganized rabble, who

would fly at the mere sight of "real troops," properly armed!

Everywhere was to be heard the sound of music and boisterous mirth on

the part of the younger nobles, who made great display of gaudy apparel,

fashionable armour from Germany, huge plumes, and high-spirited horses.

Like peacocks in their pride, they loved in those days to make a show of

magnificence. And if this was true more or less of all the higher and

wealthier nobility, particularly of the younger members, it cannot be

said that the lower classes, or the less wealthy, were at all

behind-hand in following the example of their betters.

The King himself hated display, though he did not despise a becoming

state and magnificence when occasion required; but those who were

attached to his Court, or to the retinue of the great lords, spiritual

and temporal, delighted to imitate the young magnates as far as they

could. Foremost among these was now Libor the clerk, Héderváry's

well-known governor, whom his young master found so prompt and ready, so

helpful in carrying out, and so quick to approve all his whims, that it

became more and more impossible to him to dispense with his services,

and he kept him constantly about him.

Libor sported a gigantic plume in his cap, and his sword made such a

clanking as he walked, that people knew him by it afar off. Whenever he

had the chance, he might be heard declaiming in praise of the heroic

King, and affirming that everyone who did not support him was a

scoundrel. All who were in favour of active measures highly approved of

Libor; even the King knew him, at least by name, for there was not such

another fire-eating Magyar in the whole of Pest, and all were agreed

that the King had no more devoted subject than this exemplary young

clerk.

Bishops, abbots, magnates, and the King's brother, Duke Kálmán, were

arriving now with their expected troops; but on March 14th arrived one

who was not expected, and at whom people looked in terror and amazement.

He rode up slowly, wearily, at the head of a few hundred men, as worn

and weary as himself; and as he came nearer, people whispered under

their breath, "Héderváry the Palatine!" Héderváry, who was supposed to

be defending the passes of the Carpathians!

His armour was battered, his helmet crushed, and a sabre cut across the

face had made him hardly recognisable. He rode straight up to the King's

tent, before which the Diet was assembled, no one, not even his old

friend Peter, daring to speak to him, though he gazed on him hardly able

to believe his eyes, and with a sudden chill of alarm as he thought of

Dora.

For a few moments no one spoke, but after more than one attempt, the

Palatine got out the broken words, "God and the Holy Virgin protect your

Majesty!"

Then, turning to the assembled Diet, he added, "Comrades! the enemy is

in our land! Our small force held the pass seven days; on the eighth the

flood burst through and flowed over dead bodies. You see before you all

who escaped! God and the Holy Virgin protect our country!"

Héderváry bowed his head upon his horse's neck to hide his face.

The sensation was immense, the news flew quickly from mouth to mouth,

and before long all Pest knew of the disaster, and knew, too, that in

the Palatine's opinion the enemy might reach Pest itself within a day or

two--a day or two! with such awful speed did the torrent rush forward.

If Peter had been incredulous before, he was anxious enough now, when he

heard of the lightning-like rapidity with which the Mongols were

advancing, of the 40,000 pioneers who went before them, cutting a

straight road through the thickest forests, of the catapults for

throwing stones and masses of rock, against which nothing, not even the

strongest walls, could stand. He could not leave his post, it was even

questionable whether he could reach Dora now if he made the attempt;

for, when the scouts came in they more than confirmed all that the

Palatine had said, with the additional information that five counties

had been already devastated, and that Batu's army was within half a

day's journey of Pest itself.

That same night the red glare in the sky told of burning towns and

villages only a few miles off; and the day after Héderváry's return

small bodies of Mongols actually appeared on the very confines of Pest,

laying hands on all that they could find, and then vanishing again like

the lightning, as suddenly as they had come.

The fortifications of the city were pushed on with redoubled energy, and

all were wildly eager to go out at once and challenge the enemy. But

the King's orders were strict; no one was to go out and attempt to give

battle until the whole army was assembled, when he himself would take

the command. Not a third part had come in yet, and the men chafed

impatiently at the delay. Even now, however, with danger facing them,

there was little unity in the camp, little order, little discipline;

everyone who had any pretension to be "somebody," wanted to give orders,

not obey them, and, in fact, do everything that he was not asked to do.

But as the troops continued to come in, as the earthworks rose higher,

and the ditches and trenches grew broader; as, above all, the King

seemed to have no fears, confidence revived, and those who had been

timorous ran to the opposite extreme, and began to believe that the King

had but to give the signal for battle, and the enemy's hosts would at

once be scattered like chaff. They not only believed it, but loudly

proclaimed it. Libor was especially loud and emphatic in his expressions

of confidence, and went about from one commander to another, trying his

utmost to obtain a post of some sort in the army.

He succeeded at last, for Héderváry the Palatine had lost his best

officers, and knowing how highly his son thought of Libor, he gave him a

command in his own diminished army. Whereupon Paul presented the young

governor with a complete suit of armour, and from that day forward Libor

did not know how to contain himself. He was a great man indeed now, and

he might rise still higher. In fact, so he told himself, the very

highest posts were open to him!

'Neath the Hoof of the Tartar; Or, The Scourge of God · 第 7 / 20 章