THE GRAVE OF GOLD.
Grazian Likovay's gouty leg really was a good weather-prophet; they had
hardly reached the middle of the Waag when the ice crowded around them,
and the boat was held firm amid the blocks. One of the crew, at the
peril of his life, had to cross the ice cakes to the shore, arouse the
people of the castle, and return to the boat with a long rope. By
clinging to this rope, Grazian and the crew, with the casks of gold,
were brought to shore. Here the lord of the castle was met by Master
Mathias with a troica on runners. The casks were put in, and Lord
Grazian seated himself on the driver's seat, with Master Mathias beside
him to guide the three horses.
"Knock the top out of one of the casks, my good friend, and pay the
whole household their wages for a year. The treasurer, legal adviser,
and general manager have been paid already and their goods packed up;
within an hour every living thing will be gone from here. Every one I
find staying behind will be shot down; you alone may stay with me."
"I beg your pardon for contradicting you," said Master Mathias, "but
everybody knows already how much gold we brought back from Madocsany,
and there is cause to fear that we shall be robbed if we stay alone."
"Don't worry. We'll put the whole troica into the church for the night,
and nobody can force his way in there. As soon as the moon rises, we'll
make ready the horses, take our seats in the carriage, and drive out
into the wide world toward Galicia. We have money enough, and can live
there like lords."
"But you know one cannot live by gold and silver alone; we must have
something to eat."
"That has all been prepared for. In the agent's house, we shall get our
evening meal, and provisions for the journey; here's the key. There
you'll find some choice Tokay; we will carouse on that to-day and take
what is left with us. Now get the sledge into the church."
This was done. The horses were put into the sacristy, because from their
unguarded stable they could be easily driven away. One cask of gold was
left outside, and with this Master Mathias paid the whole retinue a
year's wages; then showed them all outside the gate and locked it
behind them. After that nobody else could get into the castle, for the
keys were already at Madocsany. The cask was still not entirely empty.
"What shall I do with the rest?" asked Master Mathias.
"Put the money in your pockets, you may need it on your way."
Master Mathias did not wait to be told twice.
"No, don't kiss my hand, faithful fellow, I do not deserve it. But
listen. You are master of a thousand arts, and so I suppose you
understand masonry; bring your tools here into the church."
Master Mathias obeyed. He brought the mortar, the trowel, and the
smoothing board.
"Now pick up your tools and follow me."
Grazian led Master Mathias through the opening of the altar frame, (the
picture had been cast aside) into the secret passage-way; then to the
heavy iron door, which when opened from outside set the church bells
ringing. This door opened into the long passage-way, and at its very
beginning were two side passages. In front of one of these side passages
had been unloaded a pile of bricks. Lord Grazian threw a light into the
dark space.
"See!"
"What a frightful place," said Master Mathias, with his teeth
chattering. "What kind of women are those?"
"Bones of women, as you see."
"How did they get here?"
"They know best how they got here, but how to get away from here was
what they did not know. And yet they tried in every way, as you see.
Here they tried to break through the wall; with knives they pulled out
two and three rows of bricks, and then grew weary of the work and gave
it up. The wall is six feet through here."
"Yes, fully."
"Now then, do you know what these bricks here are for? You are to wall
up the opening of this other space."
"I can do that easily."
"But first swear to me as a good Lutheran, on the Holy Gospels, that you
will never in this life tell one word of what you have seen and heard in
this place to any living soul."
With that he drew from his pocket a small Bible, and required Master
Mathias to put his hand on the Bible and repeat the oath after him.
"Now to your work."
Out of the depths of the recess there sounded forth a sorrowful song:
"De profundis ad te clamavi, Domine----"
"Who is that?" whispered Master Mathias with a shudder.
"Take your torch and look at him."
Master Mathias threw the light of the torch into the dark space. Then he
saw Father Peter in his monk's cowl, bound, and in an upright position.
All around him were heaped up gold and silver and jewels that held him
fixed. His cowl was drawn down over his face, so that it could not be
seen.
"Father Peter!" whispered Master Mathias, turning to Lord Grazian.
"The Devil is in you that you guessed it! Yes, it really is Father
Peter."
"Who brought him here?"
"I did, with my crooked leg, and my crushed hand."
"So then he has not been killed."
"You heard him sing."
"And you wish me to wall him in?"
"Not wholly. Leave a hole in the wall, about the size of the head of a
small cask, so that he shall not suffocate."
"And who shall bring him food when we leave this country?"
"A raven of the Prophet Elias. Anything that is in the Bible is true: if
it happened once that a raven brought bread to a hungry prophet, it can
happen twice. Now to your work. You have begun this work, and you must
finish it. Do it good-naturedly, my faithful friend, or else I'll shoot
you in the head and then this one after you."
Master Mathias was all in a cold perspiration, and went to work.
"While you are doing this, I will take a little walk in this underground
paradise."
And Lord Grazian took his lantern on his maimed right arm and limped off
through the dark, winding underground passage, counting his steps as he
went. When he had counted five hundred and forty steps, he found himself
in front of that cavern where the great cask stood, all covered over
with green. He raised the cover; under this was a thick layer of wax
that he bored through with his knife. The cask contained what he had
supposed at the first glance--gunpowder.
He gathered up a little of the dust and scattered it over his torch, it
blazed up; the gunpowder had been kept dry through these centuries under
its layer of wax. Then he unbuttoned his coat, and brought out a long
cotton fuse which he had wound around his waist a number of times. With
his left hand and his teeth, he fastened this fuse to this match hanging
at the bunghole of the cask; then he walked back, drawing the fuse after
him--it was just five hundred and forty yards long. When he came to the
end, he lighted the fuse, and noted by his watch how long it took to
burn one yard--just one minute. How many hours are there in five hundred
and forty minutes? That was too much for his head; Master Mathias would
tell him.
When he returned, the wall was done, and Master Mathias was busy
smoothing it off around the open space. It was strange that Grazian had
not thought of this--what if Father Peter so walled up had made an
arrangement with Master Mathias, during Grazian's absence, and by
entreaties, threats and promises, persuaded him to make known his fate;
or had he thought of this? Was that the purpose of the fuse, or was it
for something quite different?
"Are you through, my good friend? Tell me how many times sixty goes in
five hundred and forty?"
"Six times nine make fifty-four, so nine times."
"Quite right. Six times nine makes fifty-four. The table of ones was
more than I could ever get. Yes, nine times--that is quite enough. Now I
too shall be ready soon. Do you go to the agent's house, make a good
fire on the hearth, spread the table, and prepare our supper. I will
stay here a little longer to take leave of my son."
When the major-domo had gone, Grazian went back into the church. He
lifted the casks of money from the carriage and rolled them along the
passage-way to the space just walled in. When they were all piled up
together, he stuck his hand in the opening:
"Greetings, my beloved son-in-law, Father Peter; how do you fare on your
wedding day? You have won a beautiful bride, I must acknowledge. You
shall not say you led hence my only daughter with only what she had on
her back. I will be a generous father and give her her inheritance from
both father and mother. Was ever father-in-law so good as I?"
Then he opened one of the casks and laid it with his left hand on his
wounded right arm. He smothered the pain that this caused him and shook
the silver shower of dollars down into the cavern; he did the same with
all the casks that contained silver money.
"This was your portion from her mother; now comes the dowry from her
father."
And he brought forth the casks full of gold, and poured their costly
contents over the head of his son-in-law. The heaps of money came up to
the victim's shoulders, only his head was still free.
"Miserere, mei Domine----" resounded from the lips of the man buried
alive in gold.
"Ha, ha," laughed Lord Grazian, "so you want a song. Shall I
sing you one? How do you like this: 'Gemitus mortis,--dolores
inferni--circumdederunt me. Perhaps you like this better:--'Yesterday I
went to town and heard the matins read. Now the priest who read the
matins has become my lover'--You don't want any more of that, then
here's one: 'In paradisum ne ducant te angeli--Kyrie eleison'--ha ha ha!"
Then he seized his torch and hobbled off through the passage, continuing
to mix popular songs with litany.
That diabolical laughter was the last sound of the night in this
subterranean cavern.