A STAMPEDE.
As soon as he was sufficiently warmed to be able in some degree to
control his trembling lips, Father Roger explained that he had been
captured by the Mongols, from whom he had but recently escaped; that his
life had been spared, at first on account of his clerical costume, and
afterwards because he had been taken into the service of a
Tartar-Magyar, who had saved both himself and his servant.
But when Dora would have questioned him further, and inquired who the
Tartar-Magyar was, he shook his head, saying gently, "Another time, dear
child, another time--perhaps. But it is a nightmare I would willingly
forget, except that I may give praise to God, who has preserved us
through so many grievous perils."
It was evidently such a painful subject that she could not press him
further; and she began to speak of their own plans.
"Dalmatia!" said the Canon, shaking his head, "Dalmatia! but we are in
Transylvania! and who knows for certain where his Majesty may be? I
have heard rumours, but that is all, and they are ancient by this time.
It would be wiser to try and find some safe retreat here, where there
are more hiding-places than in the great plains."
He spoke dreamily; but he had noticed Dora's hollow cheeks, and had
marked how greatly she was altered from the bright, beautiful girl whom
he had last seen less than a year ago. Her strength would never hold out
for so long a journey, even if it were otherwise desirable, which he did
not himself think it; for he was able to throw some light upon the
mysterious movement among the Mongols, and told his hearers that Oktai
the Great Khan had died suddenly in Asia; and that Batu Khan, the famous
conqueror, was far too important a person in his own eyes to be ignored
when it came to the choice of a successor. He must make his voice heard,
his influence felt; and the tidings had no sooner reached him than he
despatched orders to all his scattered forces, appointing a place of
rendezvous, and bidding them rejoin him at once.
This done, off he hurried, in his usual headlong way; and, with his
captives, his many waggons laden with booty, and his yellow hosts, he
had rushed like a tornado through Transylvania into Moldavia,
plundering, burning, ravaging, according to custom, as he went.
That was the last Father Roger knew of him; for, finding that the
farther they went the worse became the treatment of the captives, until
at last the only food thrown to them was offal and the bones the
Mongols had done with, he had felt convinced that a massacre of the old
and feeble was impending.
"Then the Tartar-Magyar is not gone with them to Asia, and he could not
protect you any longer?" asked Dora.
"He could not protect us any longer," echoed Father Roger. "We, my
faithful servant here and I, watched our opportunity and made our escape
one night into the forest."
And here we may mention that they had fled none too soon, as the
massacre of those not worth keeping as slaves actually took place, as
Father Roger had foreseen, and that within a very short time after his
flight.
The more Talabor thought of it, the more he felt that Father Roger was
probably right as to Dalmatia, and Dora finally acquiesced in giving up
her cherished plan. It was a comfort to be with Father Roger, broken
down though he was; and for the rest, if she could not join her father,
what did it matter where she went? She left it to him and Talabor to
decide, without troubling her head as to their reasons, or even so much
as asking what they had agreed; but the disappointment was grievous.
The little party therefore journeyed on together, slowly and painfully,
often hungering, often nearly frozen, until at last they reached the
town now known as Carlsburg. But here again they found only ruins and
streets filled with dead bodies, and they toiled on again till they came
to the smaller town of Frata, where there were actually a good number of
people, recently emerged from their hiding-places, and all busily
engaged in strengthening and fortifying the walls to the best of their
power.
They had but little news to give, for all were in doubt and uncertainty
both as to the King and the Mongols. The latter they did not in the
least trust; and though Frata had hitherto escaped, no one felt any
security that it might not be besieged any day, almost any hour.
"Better the caves and woods than that," said Father Roger with a
shudder. But if there were no safety for them in Frata itself, Talabor
heard there of what seemed at least a likely refuge for Dora, and that
with a member of her own family, a certain Orsolya Szirmay, who was said
to have taken refuge among the mountains, and to have many of the
Transylvanian nobility with her, and would certainly receive them.
"Only a little further!" said Talabor, as he had said before; but this
time it was "only a few miles," not a quarter of an hour's walk; and
when one can walk but slowly, when one's strength is ebbing fast, and
one's feet are swollen and painful from the many weary miles they have
trodden, when one is chilled to the bone, weak from long want of proper
food, and in constant terror of savage beasts and still more savage men,
the prospect of more rough travelling, though only for "a few miles,"
is enough to make the bravest heart sink.
Before we see how it fared with the four travellers, we must glance at
what had been taking place in Transylvania, whose warlike inhabitants
had been far less apathetic and incredulous than those of Hungary, and
at the first note of alarm had raised troops for the Palatine. Héderváry
had been despatched, as already mentioned, to close all the passes on
the east, and this done, and his presence being required elsewhere, he
had departed, leaving merely a few squadrons behind as a guard. He and
they both considered it impossible for the Mongols to force a passage on
this side, so well had they blocked the roads.
Like most of the fighting men of those days, the Hungarian army received
very little in the way of regular pay, and nothing in the way of
rations. It lived upon what it could get! and what would have been theft
and robbery at any other time, was considered quite lawful when the men
were under arms.
The troops lived well at first. To annex a few sheep, calves, oxen, and
to shoot deer, wild boar, or buffalo was part of the daily routine, for
the forests abounded in game. They were at no loss for wine either, as
some of the nobles supplied them from their cellars.
On the whole, therefore, the men were well entertained; and, little
suspecting the serious campaign in store, looked forward to a brush with
the Mongols as involving little more danger than their favourite hunting
expeditions.
And then, one morning they noticed a peculiar sound in the distance. In
one way it was familiar enough, for it reminded them of a hunt, but a
hunt on such a scale as none of them had ever witnessed yet. For it was
as if all the game in the dense, almost impassable forests on the
frontier were being driven towards them by thousands of beaters, driven
slowly and gradually, but always nearer and nearer.
They wondered among themselves who the huntsmen could be, and thought
that the great lords had perhaps called out the peasantry by way of
beguiling the time, and that, as the roads were closed against the
Mongols, they were coming through the woods.
But there was no shouting, which was remarkable, and they could hear no
human voices, nothing but the hollow sound as of repeated blows and
banging, which came to them from time to time, when the wind was in a
particular quarter, like the mutter of distant storms.
Two days later, this weird and ghastly noise could be heard till dark.
No one could imagine what was going on.
But the detachments whose especial duty it was to watch the frontier
appeared to be under a spell, for they passed their time in the usual
light-hearted way, and went out shooting and hunting in large parties.
They had never known the forest so full of game of all sorts
before--wild buffalo, bears, wolves, deer, fawns--as it had been since
"the woods had begun to talk," as they expressed it.
By the third day the distant sounds had altered their character, and
were no longer like the ordinary noise made by sportsmen and their
beaters, but more puzzling still.
Then came orders to the various detachments from the Palatine, that a
few bodies of men were to be posted here and there, rather as spies than
guards, while the rest hastened with all speed to join the main army in
Hungary proper.
Héderváry did not so much as hint that the "Tartars were coming"; but he
was well aware of the fact, for he had good spies, and that even among
the Russians who had coalesced with the Mongols.
Early on the morning of their departure some of the men thought they saw
scattered clouds of smoke rising over the forests to the east, but they
were a "happy-go-lucky" set, as so many were in those days, and they
troubled their heads very little as to what it might mean.
Someone suggested that, as the blacksmiths were all unusually hard at
work on horseshoes, of which an enormous number were wanted, no doubt
the charcoal burners were especially busy too; and there were many of
them in the woods and forests; in all probability, the smoke proceeded
from their fires. And with this supposed explanation all were content.
But suddenly, to the now accustomed sound of beating and knocking, which
was still drawing nearer and nearer, there was added another of a
different character.
Hitherto, the woods had "talked," and echo had answered them; now the
forest "roared." The wind had been light at early morning; now it was
piping and whistling, swaying the trees to and fro, making the tall
stems tremble, and knock their long bare arms one against the other.
One of the Palatine's small detachments of about 150 men was stationed
in the mountainous district of Marmaros, with a lofty and precipitous
wall of rock bounding one side of the camp. The men were just preparing
for a start, when a huge buffalo made its sudden appearance on the edge
of the cliff far above their heads. It had come so far with a rush, but
the sight of the great depth below had stopped it short, and it stood
with its feet rooted to the ground for a moment--only for a moment,
however. It raised its head, and seemed to sniff the air, and then, with
one short, faltering bellow, it leapt and fell into their midst,
upsetting one horse, and wounding a couple of men.
This was the first; but after the first came a second, after the second,
a third!
Helter-skelter the troops retired from the dangerous spot, and from a
safe distance they counted five buffalo, one after the other, which
dashed to the edge of the cliff, as if in terror from their pursuers,
and took the fatal leap. Only one was able to rise again, and that one
just gave one look round, dug its forefeet into the ground, and then
rushed on straight ahead as if there were a pack of hounds at its heels.
Shortly after, while the troops were riding down the narrow valley at
the foot of the mountains, they could hear the howl of wolves coming
nearer and nearer, and a pack so large that no one could even guess
their number, was seen to be scampering down the dale; some were
clattering down the cliffs, which were more sloping here, while the rest
tore wildly forward, passing close beside, and even in among the horses,
many of which were maddened with terror, and bolted with their riders.
An hour or so later, when the little troop had succeeded in quieting the
horses, and had advanced some way on its journey amid many perils and
dangers, the cause of all this excitement among the wild animals was
suddenly revealed. The forest was on fire! It was crackling in the
flames, burning like a furnace beneath a canopy of black smoke.
The Mongols had fired it on this side, while in another direction they
had opened a way forty fathoms wide, through woods over hill and dale,
through walls of rock, and across streams and ditches. They were making
ready their way before them, and were advancing along it upon the
unready country.
Wherever they were reached by the fire, the trees crashed down one upon
another; ravens, crows, jackdaws, and all the winged creatures of the
woods, were flying to and fro above the trees, in dense, dark clouds,
and with loud cries and cawing; bears came along muttering, flying
before the fire and smoke, climbing trees from which they did not dare
descend again, and with which they perished together.
As already mentioned, Batu Khan's army was preceded by pioneers with
axes and hatchets, who drove their road straight forward, through or
over obstacles of all kinds. Nothing stopped them, and often their own
dead bodies helped to fill up the ditches and trenches; for what was the
value of their lives to the Mongols? Absolutely nothing! since they were
taken for the most part from the people whom they had conquered.
As soon as the awful news of their advance spread through the country,
the people fled without another thought of defending their homes or
resisting the enemy, or of anything else but saving their lives and what
little property they could carry with them in their wild stampede.
In a few days Transylvania was ablaze from end to end. Towns, villages,
farms, castles, country seats, strongholds, even the ancient walls of
Alba Julia, all were surrounded by the flames, and were crashing and
cracking into ruins.
The invaders, stupid in their destructiveness, spared nothing whatever;
and their leaders and commanders, themselves as stupid as the brute-like
herd over whom they were placed, occasioned loss to the Khan which was
past all reckoning, for his object was plunder, and they in their rage
for ruin, destroyed what the Khan might even have called treasure, as
well as what might have provided food for hundreds of thousands of the
army. What did the Khan Oktai, or Batu, or his thousands of leaders
care! The latter were Little Tartars, Russian Tartars, German Tartars,
and what not, to whom the conqueror had given the rank and title of
Knéz, whom he favoured, promoted, and enriched, until his humour
changed, or he had no further use for them, and then--why then he
squeezed them, made them disgorge their wealth, and strung them up to
the nearest tree. They were but miserable foreigners after all!
Transylvania was in the clutches of the enemy, who had entered her in
two large divisions, north and south. But, thanks to the nature of the
country, and the many hiding-places it afforded, she did not suffer
quite so severely as her neighbour.
Orsolya Szirmay, of whom the travellers had heard at Frata, had married
one Bankó, a man of large property and influence, who owned vast estates
both in Hungary and Transylvania; but Orsolya did not see much of her
own relatives after her marriage, for her husband was a man of awkward
temper, and they rarely paid her a visit; so that when, four or five
years before the Mongol invasion, Bankó died, she went to live on the
Transylvanian property, which was in a most neglected condition, and
required her presence. Bankó had lived to be ninety-three, and his widow
was now an old lady with snow-white hair, but with all her faculties and
energies about her, and eyes as bright, hair as lustrous, as those of a
young girl.
She had made her home in a gloomy castle among the mountains, but at the
first rumour of the coming invasion, she left it for Frata, where she
had an old house, or rather barn, which had been divided up into rooms,
and was neither better nor worse than many another dwelling-house in
those days.
During her short stay here, the old lady was constantly riding about the
country accompanied by her elderly man-servant, and a young girl, who
had but lately joined her, and was introduced as "a relation from
Hungary."
One morning early all three disappeared without notice to anyone, and it
was only later that it was rumoured that "Aunt Orsolya," as she was
called throughout the country, had taken refuge in a large cavern among
the mountains to the north of Frata.
It afforded plenty of space, it was difficult of approach, and it had
but one, and that a very narrow entrance; the streams which now flow
through it not having then forced a passage.
How Aunt Orsolya had contrived to stock it with food and other
necessaries we are not told, but she had done it; neither did she lack
society in this lonely abode after the first week or two, for she was
joined in some mysterious way by between seventy and eighty persons
belonging to the most distinguished families in the land.
She, of course, was the head, the queen of this strange establishment,
for those who fled hither to save their lives, and, as far as they
could, their most precious valuables, found the old lady already
installed.
She received them, she was their hostess; and besides all this, she was
a born ruler, one to whom others submitted, unconsciously as it were,
and who compelled respect and deference.
Orsolya, then, had taken the part of house-mistress from the beginning,
and no doubt enjoyed receiving more and more guests, and enjoyed also
the consciousness that they all looked up to her, and were all ready to
submit themselves to her wishes--we might say commands.
The old lady herself appointed to each one his place, in one or other of
the many roomy caves which opened out of the great cavern, and she
managed to find something for everyone to do.
In a short time the cavern was as clean as hands could make it. The
driest parts were reserved for sleeping places; and one cave was set
apart as a chapel, where service was regularly held by the clergy, of
whom there were several among the refugees.
When the neighbourhood was quiet, the men went out hunting,
and--stealing! Stealing! there is no polite word for it. They stole
sheep, cattle, provisions anything they needed for housekeeping. Those
who came in empty-handed Orsolya scolded in plain language; and the men
who swept and cleaned at her bidding, and the women who boiled and
baked, gradually became as much accustomed to the old lady's resolute
way of keeping house and order as if they had served under her all their
lives.
It was some time in March that Aunt Orsolya had retreated to the cavern,
and there she and her companions had remained all through the spring,
summer, and autumn, often alarmed, but never actually molested, hearing
rumours in plenty, but knowing little beyond the fact that the whole
country was in the hands of the Mongols, and that the King was a
fugitive.