A DESPERATE HAZARD.
After finishing his letter, Manasseh took a number of banknotes out of
his pocketbook and put them into his waistcoat pocket, and then softly
slipped the pocketbook itself, with his letter, under Aaron's pillow. On
Blanka's pure brow, as she lay asleep, he gently pressed a parting kiss,
after which he heaped fresh fuel on the fire, stole out of the cave,
saddled his horse, and rode away into the darkness.
The signal-fire on Monastery Heights showed him where to find the
Wallachian camp. No outposts challenged his progress, and he made his
way unmolested to the ruined monastery which sheltered the insurgents.
Fastening his horse to a tree, he turned his steps toward the belfry
tower that marked the position of the cloister and the chapel, which, as
the only building on the mountain with a whole roof, served the
Wallachian leader and his staff as headquarters.
Softly opening the door, Manasseh found himself in a low but spacious
apartment. Twelve men were seated around a table on which stood a
single tallow candle, whose feeble rays could hardly pierce the
enveloping clouds of tobacco smoke. The company was engaged in that
engrossing pursuit which, as is well known, claimed so much of the
officers' time during the campaigns of the period,--they were playing
cards.
One chair in the circle was empty. Perhaps its former occupant had
gambled away his last kreutzer and left the room. At any rate, the
newcomer advanced without hesitation and took the vacant seat. It may be
that the players were too absorbed in their game to notice him; or
possibly they had so recently come together that they were not yet
sufficiently acquainted to detect a stranger's presence; or, again, the
feeble light and the clouds of tobacco smoke may have rendered it
impossible to distinguish one's neighbours very clearly. Whatever the
reason, the stranger's advent elicited no comment. A pocketful of money
furnished him all the language he needed to speak, and the cards were
dealt to him as a matter of course. Opposite him sat the Wallachian
leader.
The game proceeded and the stakes rose higher and higher. One after
another the losers dropped out, until at last Manasseh and the
Wallachian commander were left pitted against each other, a heap of
coins and banknotes between them. Fortune declared for Manasseh, and he
swept the accumulated stakes into his pocket. At this the others looked
him more sharply in the face. "Who is he?" was asked by one and another.
"Why, you are Manasseh Adorjan!" exclaimed the leader at length, in
astonishment. "What do you mean by this rashness?"
The faces around him assumed threatening looks, and more than one
muttered menace fell on his ear; but the hardy intruder betrayed no sign
of uneasiness.
"I trust I am among gentlemen," he remarked, quietly, "who will not seek
a base revenge on a player that has won their money from them."
The words failed not of their effect. Honour forbade that a hand should
be raised against the fortunate winner.
"But, Adorjan," interposed the leader, in a tone of mingled wonder and
vexation, "how did you come here and what is your purpose?"
"Time enough to talk about that when we have finished playing," was the
careless rejoinder. "First I must win the rest of your money. So have
the goodness to resume your seats."
The company began to laugh. Clenched fists relaxed, and the men clapped
the intruder jovially on the shoulder, as they again took their places
around the table.
"Haven't you a spare pipe to lend me?" Manasseh asked his right-hand
neighbour.
"Yes, yes, to be sure," was the ready reply.
Manasseh filled the proffered pipe, drew from his pocket a banknote
which he rolled into a lighter, thrust it into the candle-flame, and so
kindled his pipe, after which he took up his cards and began to play.
A faint-hearted man, on finding his own and his brothers' lives thus at
stake, would have sought to curry favour by allowing his opponents to
win. But not so Manasseh. He plundered the company without mercy, as
before, and as before he and his _vis-à-vis_ were at last left sole
antagonists, while the others rose from their places and gathered in
groups about these two. Manasseh still continued to win, and his
opponent's supply of money ebbed lower and lower. The loser grew
furious, and drank deeply to keep himself in countenance.
"Give me a swallow of your brandy," said Manasseh, but he had no sooner
tasted it than he pushed the bottle disdainfully away. "Fusel-oil!" he
exclaimed, making a wry face. "To-morrow I will send you a cask of my
plum brandy."
"No, you won't," returned his antagonist.
"Why not, pray?"
"Because to-morrow you shall hang."
"Oh, no," replied Manasseh, lightly, "for that would require my personal
presence, and I am needed elsewhere."
The Wallachian continued to lose. Finally, in his fury, he staked his
last penny--"and your brothers' heads into the bargain!" he added, in
desperation.
The other took him up and staked his own head in addition to the bundle
of notes which he threw down nonchalantly before him.
They played, and again Manasseh won. A man less bold of temperament
might have thought to gain his enemies' good-will by leaving his
winnings on the table. But Manasseh knew better. His opponents, angered
by their losses, called him a robber, but still respected him. Had he,
however, been so timid as to leave the money lying there, they would
have regarded his action as such an insult that he would have been
compelled to fight the entire company, one after another, in single
combat.
"Now, then," said the leader, "we have time to talk. Why are you
here--to persuade us to release your two brothers and leave Toroczko in
peace?"
"A man of your discernment can fathom my motives without asking any
questions," replied Manasseh, with a courteous bow.
"Well, let us see how you are going to work to bring this about. Your
brother David, like the simple rustic he is, thought to talk me over
with Bible quotations. He preached me a sermon on the love of one's
neighbour, Christ's commandments, the almighty power of Jehovah, and a
lot more of the same sort, until at last I grew tired of it and had him
locked up to keep him quiet. Your brother Simon is a shrewder man; he
has been to school at Kolozsvar. He came to me with threats in his
mouth, delivered a long harangue on the constitution, the powers of the
government, our past history, and kept up such a din in my ears that
finally I had to shut him up, too. But you are the cleverest of the
three; you have been trained as a diplomat, and have taken lessons in
Vienna from Metternich himself. Let us hear what you have to say."
"Set my brothers free," returned Manasseh, boldly, "and promise me not
to attack Toroczko; then I will give you sixteen fat oxen and twenty
casks of plum brandy."
The Wallachian sprang to his feet and clapped his hand to his sword. "If
you were only armed," he exclaimed wrathfully, "you should pay for your
insolence by fighting me. Do you take me for an Armenian peddler to be
chaffered with in that fashion?"
Manasseh kept his seat on the edge of the table, swinging one foot
carelessly to and fro. "If you were an Armenian peddler," was his cool
retort, "you would be far more sensibly employed than at present. But
why so angry? I offer you what you most need, food and drink; and I ask
in return what we most desire, peace."
"But what you offer us we can come and take in spite of you. You three
brothers are now in our hands, and we have only to send word to the
people of Toroczko that, unless they lay down their arms and surrender
the town, we shall hang you from the turret of St. George Castle."
"There are five more of us brothers at home, and, furthermore, in order
to reach St. George Castle you must push through the Gap or make your
way over the Szekler Stone, and you know well enough that the men of
Toroczko have held this valley in times past against the whole invading
army of the Tartars."
"You forget that there is still another way to reach Toroczko."
"No, I do not forget it. You mean the bridge over the Aranyos. But our
iron cannon guard that bridge, and your bushrangers are hardly the
troops to take it."
"Well, then, look out of yonder window toward the west. Do you see that
signal-fire, and do you know its meaning? It means that a division of
regular troops, with artillery and cavalry, is on the way hither from
Szent-Laszlo."
Manasseh burst into a laugh. "It means that a merry company of
picnickers took their lunch this noon at the Wonder Spring, at the foot
of the great beech-tree. The wasps came out and plagued them, so they
stuck burning grass into the hollow trunk, and consequently the whole
tree was soon in flames. That is what you see burning now."
"Manasseh, if you are lying to me!"
"You know me. You know I never lie. What I say is true. When I choose
not to tell the truth, I hold my tongue. Last night I slept at
Ciprianu's. There are no imperial troops to be seen for miles around.
What is more, the Hungarian forces have left Kolozsvar. Whither have
they gone? I do not know; but it might befall you, while counting on
meeting with help, to stumble upon an enemy. After the first three
Adorjans, you will encounter a fourth, Jonathan, and he will give you
something beside Bible quotations and Metternichian diplomacy."
The Wallachian was visibly affected by this speech, but he sought to
hide his concern, and cried out, in a harsh tone: "If you are trifling
with me, Adorjan, you'll find you have trifled with your own life. If
you have told me a lie, God in heaven shall not save you."
"But as I have not told you a lie, God in heaven will save me, and I beg
you to tell me where I may lie down and sleep, for I am very tired."
"Shut him up in the bell-tower," commanded the Wallachian.
"Good!" cried Manasseh, with a laugh. "At least I shall be able to ring
you up early in the morning."
"Inasmuch as you have offered us a supply of brandy and eighteen oxen,"
were the leader's parting words, "we will have another interview in the
morning."
"Sixteen was the number," Manasseh corrected him.
A bed of hay under the bell was furnished the captive, and he was locked
up for the night, after which the company he had left held a council of
war.