THE BATTLE OF NAGY-SZÖLLÖS
Meanwhile Michael Apafi assured by Ali Pasha that help would come to
him in a short time, advanced on Schassburg and there awaited the
change of fortune. John Kemény came against him with a great army of
German and Hungarian troops in imposing numbers, and he himself was a
bold general in time of action. Michael Apafi could make but slight
opposition. He had a few hundred stiff-necked Szeklers incapable of
discipline, together with the blue janissaries who had stayed behind
as bodyguard for him; in all not the tenth of Kemény's force in point
of strength. By the advice of Stephen Apafi the Prince determined to
stay in Schassburg on the defensive until he could be joined by the
auxiliaries from his Turkish patron. This decision was pleasing to the
Saxon burghers, for behind the walls of their own town they knew how
to defend themselves, but in open field they were never quite
comfortable. With the Szeklers it was just the opposite. It was
Nalaczy's mission to keep them in a warlike frame of mind. One evening
he brought them to such a state of excitement at the inn that with the
dawn they went noisily to the windows of the Prince and swore roundly
that the gate must be opened to them for they were determined to
attack Kemény and fight it out to the death. The Prince and his
advisers came down in terror and strove in every way to make them
understand that Kemény's troops were more numerous than they; that the
half of his army was made up of musketeers while on their side none
but the Saxons knew how to use firearms; that if they should make a
sally by one gate the enemy would rush in by the other and all would
be confusion. But the man who thinks he can clear a Szekler's mind of
an idea once gained is much mistaken.
"We are either going to be led against the enemy or we are going
home," they shouted. "We positively will not consent to stay here ten
years like the Trojans, for we are needed at home. Portion out to
every man the number of the enemy that falls to his share, these he
shall strike down and then take his discharge. We do not wish to stay
here and be besieged and starved out, and then thrown to the dogs and
rats."
"If you do not wish to stay, my friends, you may go," was the final
decision of Apafi, "but it would be madness for me to be drawn into an
engagement."
The Szeklers said never a word but took up their knapsacks, shouldered
their spears and moved out of Schassburg as if they never had been
there. From this time on the Szeklers were Apafi's enemies and
remained so until his death.
The next day Kemény's forces were beneath the city walls, where Apafi
had barely armed men enough to guard the gates. Wenzinger was the man
who best understood the art of war. This general, true to the
principles of the military art in which he had been trained, first
inspected the ground, then carefully occupied any point which could be
of any importance, taking care to cover the besieging forces in every
direction; in short, in accordance with a systematic method he
prolonged his preparations so that when at last he was ready to begin,
at that very moment came the news that the Turkish auxiliaries were
approaching on the double-quick. Thereupon, still in accordance with
his system, he assembled the scattered troops and made ready to meet
the approaching Turks. But John Kemény was in the way. He feared that
if the Turkish force proved large his forces would have to take
flight, and in that case with Schassburg in the rear they would come
between two fires. He preferred to wait the attack of his enemy and
withdrew from the town altogether, taking up his position in
Nagy-Szöllös in a spot that will for some time still to come be known
as an important battlefield; from that point he watched calmly the
advance of Kutschuk Pasha's horsemen into Schassburg.
Apafi, in his anxiety over a state of affairs into which he had fallen
through no fault of his own, had not eaten anything for three days,
when word was brought him that the auxiliaries had come. It was
already late in the evening when Kutschuk Pasha, after a forced march
over rough mountain paths, entered the city. Apafi rode forward to
greet the Turk, whom he looked upon as his guardian angel. Great was
his astonishment when, after carefully surveying the line, he learned
that they were barely equal to the fifth part of the opposing force.
"What does your Grace intend with this small force?" he asked the
Pasha.
"God knows, who from above orders the fates of men," answered the Turk
with characteristic fatalism; and did not take the Prince into his
plans any further.
That night the Turks encamped in the public square in front of the
Prince's dwelling. At last Apafi could sleep again after so many
restless nights. It was such a satisfaction to him to hear the
snorting of the horses under his window and the clanking of the
sentinels' swords, that he fell asleep with a light heart amid these
quieting sounds; then too there was the thought that with these troops
he could hold out for some time, when--something might happen. Long
before dawn he was wakened by the rattling on a board which called
the Turkish horsemen to breakfast.
"They breakfast early," thought the Prince, turned over and fell
asleep again. As he dozed it seemed to him that he heard dervishes
singing; their song is of a kind to make a man sleep even if he felt
wide awake; but soon his Excellency was roused again by the sound of
trumpets. "What are they doing in the middle of the night?" he cried
out with annoyance; he got up, looked from the window, and saw that
the Turkish riders had already mounted, though it was still dark; and
with another sound of the trumpet the entire company rode out. The
noise of the hoofs on the pavement and the words of command sounded
out in the night.
"What a restless fellow this Pasha is!" thought Apafi, "he does not
give his army any rest even at night, and that too after so many
hardships," and with these thoughts he went to bed again, fell into
still sweeter sleep, and woke late in the morning. The sun was high in
the heavens when Apafi rang for John Cserei, at that time his
factotum. His first question was,
"What is the Pasha doing?"
"He withdrew from the town during the night and sent back a messenger
who has been waiting since dawn."
"Let him enter," said Apafi, and began to dress in haste.
With Kutschuk's messenger entered Stephen Apafi, Nalaczy and Daczo.
They too had been waiting two hours for the Prince to awaken, and
besides this they were eager for the Pasha's message.
"What news? Speak quickly," called Apafi to the messenger.
The latter stood with arms crossed, bowed to the ground, and began,
"Excellent Prince, my lord, Kutschuk Pasha, sends you the following
message through me, 'Stay quietly in Schassburg and keep good hope;
with the troops under your command guard the walls and gates.'
Meantime my lord Kutschuk Pasha will advance against John Kemény and
enter into an engagement with him wherever he finds him. It will be a
struggle unto death, even if he should perish with his entire host."
This announcement so confounded the Prince that he could find no word
of reply. Kutschuk Pasha in point of numbers was equal to the fifth of
Kemény's force; besides, his troops were worn out with forced marches.
The man who could hope for victory at such a time must believe in
miracles.
"Let us prepare for the worst," said Stephen Apafi, "and put our trust
in God."
That was the most sensible speech to be made under the circumstances.
Michael Apafi let affairs take their course, any man who chose might
guard the walls. The guards left their soldiers to look out for
themselves and the soldiers did not trouble themselves much about the
walls. The fate of the land lay in God's hand, literally speaking, for
the hand of man was withdrawn. The Prince did no more than to order
old Cserei to keep watch in the church tower and let them know when he
saw the troops moving.
* * * * *
Meanwhile John Kemény had halted in Nagy-Szöllös, which was a few
hours distant from Schassburg. He made his headquarters in the little
parsonage, and the little room is still shown where he rested for the
last time, and the round hill in the garden on which stood a
summerhouse where the Prince had begun his last meal but had not
finished it.
The Hungarian forces consulted for a long time with Wenzinger and the
Prince about the course of action. Some advised taking the town by
storm and others maintained that they should besiege it and starve the
people to submission. Wenzinger shook his head.
"Permit me, my lord," said the experienced German, "to express my
opinion. I am an old soldier, have been through all kinds of
campaigns, know the value of superior forces in war and also of good
positions, and know how to balance the two. I have learned by
experience that often a hundred men under favorable circumstances are
more difficult to displace than a thousand. I also know what a
difference the spirit of an army makes. I know too the importance of
taking into account the different kinds of weapons, and the importance
of nationality. We have ten thousand men and there are barely three
thousand drawn up against us. But we must take into consideration that
the greater part of our Hungarian force consists of horsemen, and that
it is impossible to storm a city with horsemen--still less possible to
compel a Hungarian on a horse to dismount and fight on foot;
furthermore I would remark that the Hungarian is a brave fighter when
drawn up against foreigners, but whenever I have seen him against his
own people,--and I have frequently had the opportunity, he has been so
lazy and indifferent that it seemed as if he could hardly wait to turn
his back on the battlefield. We have a force of men that are very good
on the defensive, and if we had them behind the walls of that town we
could hold out against a force of ten times that number; but except
behind fortifications they are of no use. They are strong enough to
defend a bastion but too weak to storm one. Then we have no cannon for
storming so we must send to Temesvar for cannon, and before they can
arrive over those roads--and it is a great question too whether the
commander will send us any--Ali Pasha may return with fresh forces,
while we shall have spent the time here to no purpose. So I maintain
that we had better wait here no longer. We are in no condition to take
the enemy within the walls by force or siege. We cannot suppose him so
mad as to be drawn into an open engagement. The wisest thing for us
under these circumstances is to go without delay to Hungary, there get
troops and cannon, and then make it our object to force the enemy into
a field engagement."
Kemény, who was not accustomed to listen for any length of time to
words of reason, could hardly wait for Wenzinger to come to a pause;
as if the plan of action was of the most trifling importance to him,
he interrupted with frivolous impatience,
"Let's put it off until afternoon. General, after dinner everything
looks different."
"No, indeed, not after dinner," said the German; "there is no time to
be lost. We are in the midst of war where every hour is precious and
not in the Diet where an affair can be dragged out for years."
At this hit the Hungarians laughed loudly, seized Wenzinger by the
arm, and dragged him with jests to the table, saying,
"You know we have plenty of time after dinner."
"Many such soldiers whom no one can command would quite meet my
views," said Wenzinger, half in jest and half in vexation, and then he
spoke no more during the meal, but drank the harder.
During the dinner John Uzdi, captain of the scouts, entered the
extemporized banquet-hall with terror in his face. In his extreme
haste speech almost failed him.
"Majesty--I saw great clouds of dust in the direction of Schassburg,
and coming this way."
The Prince turned his head with humorous nonchalance toward the
messenger; "If it is any pleasure to you to inspect those clouds of
dust, why keep on looking at them."
Wenzinger sprang up from his place.
"I too must see them," he said, and ordered his horse brought forward
at once. "Evidently the enemy has come out to draw us nearer."
The rest did not allow themselves to be disturbed but went on with
their pleasures. After a few minutes Wenzinger came hurrying back; on
his features could be read that secret joy which a soldier always
feels when his plan nears success.
"Victory," he cried, as he entered, "the enemy is moving off, bag and
baggage; provided only he is not doing it for appearances, and is not
avoiding a battle, all's won."
At this news some of the men rose and began to buckle on their swords,
but the Prince did not leave his place.
"Are they still far away?" he asked the general, calmly.
"Half an hour distant," answered the other with glowing countenance.
"Then let them come nearer, and meantime sit down beside me."
"The Devil I will!" said the general, angrily, "I have hardly time to
assign the army their positions."
"What is the use of assigning them positions? Let them march in a
solid column so that the enemy will be frightened to death at the mere
sight of them."
"Quite right. However, I do not wish to frighten them away but to
surround them. One half of the army I will draw up against them, and
the other I will arrange as follows: one division shall steal through
the grain fields and cut off the enemy's retreat in the direction of
this city; another shall fall on his flank just above the millstream;
and the third shall be stationed as rear guard. Your Majesty with his
court shall join the rear guard."
"What," said Kemény, roused at last, "I in the rear guard! Hungarian
Princes are in the habit of going first in battle."
"That was well enough in former times, but in a combined assault, so
precious a life that must always be looked out for is only in the
general's way, and has a disturbing effect on the movements of the
troops. But if it is your Majesty's express wish, then I give over the
command to you and take my place in the rank and file. Let your
Majesty take the command. Here only one can be general."
"Stay at your post and arrange matters as you will, only let me choose
my position as I wish, and it shall not interfere with yours."
And Kemény staid at table with a few of the men. Wenzinger had hardly
time to make the necessary arrangements when word was brought the
Prince that the army was in line of battle. Kemény rose calmly from
his place, girded on his sword, but forbade them to put on his coat of
mail.
"What for," he cried, "is the heart beneath any bolder?"
Then he had his finest horse led forward, which tossed his head so
fiercely that two men could hardly hold his bridle. The spirited black
beast reared and plunged; his nostrils steamed, the white foam flecked
his breast and his long waving tail reached almost to the ground.
Kemény swung himself into his saddle, drew his sword and galloped to
the head of the army. Everybody was astonished at the fine rider. He
adapted his movements to the horse as if they were one creature. When
the high-spirited horse reached the front he began to slacken his
pace, struck his hoofs on the ground and seemed to salute the army
with his head.
The men broke out into a loud huzza. At this moment the Prince's horse
stumbled and fell forward, breaking the silver bit in his mouth; only
the greatest skill and presence of mind saved the Prince from plunging
over his horse's head. His attendants crowded about him.
"That's a bad sign, your Majesty," stammered Alexis Bethlen. "Let your
Majesty mount another horse."
"No, it is not a bad sign," replied Kemény, "for I staid in my
saddle."
"However it would be well if your Majesty would not ride this horse.
He will keep stumbling now that he has been frightened."
"I intend to stay on this horse just to show that I do not give in to
omens and am not afraid of them," replied Kemény, defiantly, and
ordered the bridle with broken bit to be taken away and another
brought. Just then Kutschuk's trumpeter sounded for the attack.
* * * * *
The Turkish horsemen were drawn up in the form of a crescent with the
ends turned backward, and in the centre rode Kutschuk Pasha. The
Turkish general on this occasion wore a costume of unusual splendor.
His caftan was of heavy silk embroidered in flowers of gold; under
this a dolman woven in threads of gold, and around his waist a costly
Oriental shawl; his sword was studded with precious stones; in his
turban was the entire wing of a gerfalcon, with a diamond clasp. He
rode a fiery Arab steed with slender neck, long braided mane and
flowing black tail. The proud creature tossed his head and shook the
fringed housings; there was a kind of gold net over his body with
leather knots at the ends from which hung large golden crescents
hitting against each other. As soon as Kutschuk Pasha came in sight of
the princely troops of Kemény, he prostrated himself on the ground and
kissed the earth three times, raised himself as many times to his
knees, lifted his hands and devout face to heaven and cried "Allah,
Allah!" Then he mounted his horse again, ordered his son called to
him, tore a falcon feather from his turban, and said as he stuck it in
the boy's cap, "Now go to the left wing of the enemy and try to fight
bravely, for it is better that you should fall by the enemy's hand and
I should see you dead than that you should flee and be obliged to fall
a sacrifice to my sword."
With these words he put his hand on the weapon at his side. Feriz Bey
bowed with an expression of the deepest homage, kissed his father's
robe and galloped proudly to his appointed post. He seemed to know
that all eyes were now directed to those falcon feathers that his
father had placed in his turban. The Pasha then rode along the front
of his host and spoke to his men:
"Brave comrades, now you see the enemy with your own eyes. I will not
say whether their numbers are great or small, for you can see for
yourselves. They are many more than we, but trust in Allah and fight
bravely; it is more honorable to fall here sword in hand, than to
disgrace numbers by flight. We are in the middle of Transylvania;
whoever runs away will be hunted down by pursuers before he can get to
the borders, but even if any one should escape the Sultan will have
him killed. We have no choice but victory or death."
Then he turned to the Wallachians and addressed them in hard, angry
tones:
"Well do I know, you dogs, that you are ready to ride off at the first
shot, but I have given orders to the troops stationed on the outside
to shoot down any one of you who so much as looks backward."
Then the Pasha took his place at the head of the host and with
unsheathed sword gave the sign to the trumpeter. As he once more
surveyed the troops he noticed that the Moors in their metal caps
stationed behind him had reached for their guns and made ready to aim.
"What do you mean!" growled the Pasha. "Down with your muskets! The
enemy has more of them. Nothing but swords now! Let every man ride
boldly against the enemy and when I give the sign, bend low on his
horse and gallop forward without trembling."
The army obeyed the command. The Moors slung their weapons on their
shoulders, drew their broad swords and marched forward following the
Pasha. Kemény's troops stood before them like a wall of steel. In the
first line the musketeers and behind them the infantry. In the centre
was Wenzinger and on the right wing John Kemény. The troops on the
flanks marched stealthily behind the mill and the grain fields to
attack the rear. When the Turks were almost within shot of Kemény's
army Kutschuk Pasha turned round and cast commanding glances at his
soldiers right and left, at which they instantly dropped their heads
on their horses' necks, swung their swords forward, struck spurs into
their horses' flanks and rode madly into the lines of the enemy.
"Allah! Allah! Allah!" rang out three times from the lips of the
assailing Turks. At the third shout there came a tremendous report.
Kemény's musketeers had at that moment fired in line at the assailing
horsemen and their ranks were for the instant enveloped in smoke.
Generally speaking such firing does little harm in war, causing more
noise than destruction. In this case only two Turks fell with their
horses, the rest galloped forward under the hot firing. Wenzinger saw
that his artillery had no time to load again and gave command for the
infantry to advance. If these troops could have stood their ground
against the attack of the horsemen until the artillery could load
again, or until the flank troops could have fallen on the Turks in the
rear, Kemény would have won the battle, but the ranks of the infantry
were broken through at the first onset, and after a desperate
engagement largely mown down. Thereupon the defenseless musketeers
fled in great numbers and by their cries threw the rest of the army
into the utmost confusion. Wenzinger tried to restore order at once by
giving command for a retreat along the whole line, and had this been
carried out the engagement might have taken another turn. But the
horseguards who were under the command of the Prince, by Kemény's
orders stood where they were; the rest of the troops changed their
position and continued to fight with those opposite them. The Pasha
suddenly turned from the pursuit of the musketeers in their mad flight
and fell upon Kemény with his entire force. The latter, attacked in
front and on the side at the same time, lost his wits, and as there
was neither time nor space for an orderly retreat, plunged frantically
along the first way that opened. Naturally he did not notice in such a
flight that he was riding down his own infantry, then in retreat,
since the horseguards who had charged in disorderly assault at the
rank still in line, and trampled down their own troops, had prevented
the use of the reserves; so the whole army was brought into confusion
and disorder.
The infantry threw down their weapons and fled, pursued by the
horsemen of both armies; any still remaining in line were trampled to
death by the horsemen. Neither the genius of the leader nor the
self-sacrifice of a few brave men availed to restore order. The wild
flight in one part threw the rest into confusion. The battle was
completely lost. In the general panic that reigned the Prince too
fled. As he had been in the front ranks of the battle he was now at
the rear, and could with difficulty escape his pursuers in such a
tumult. The Turks pursued closely and knocked down all within reach.
Close on the track of the Prince followed a young Turk, and as his
horse carried a much lighter weight he soon overtook the Prince. By
the falcon's feather waving in his turban could be recognized Feriz
Bey, son of Kutschuk Pasha. His features were ablaze with a youthful
glow, those of the Prince were dark with rage and shame. During the
flight he often looked back and gnashed his teeth. "To flee from a
child is a disgrace," he cried out in his anger. Several times he
tried to stop but his maddened horse swept him along. Meantime the
youth had come so near that he began to show his sword. At first the
Prince did not consider the strokes of the boy worthy his attention,
but as the latter coming nearer grew bolder and bolder, the Prince
drew his sword and returned the blows.
"Don't come any nearer, you bastard," shouted Kemény, furiously, "or
I'll deal you a blow that will knock your very breath out."
By this time Feriz with a bound of his horse reached the side of the
Prince and aimed a Damascus blade at his neck, while Kemény leaning
back, drew his sword for a fearful blow. The two swords were whizzing
through the air, when Kemény's horse stumbled again and fell with a
broken leg. This gave his blow another direction, and instead of
hitting Feriz as he had intended, he struck the head of his own horse
and cleft it in twain just as the young Turk's sword gleamed against
Kemény's forehead. The Prince, falling from his horse looked darkly at
his foe: the blood was streaming from his forehead. Once more he
struck his spurs into his horse and the poor creature struggled to his
hind feet, only to fall backward with his rider still clinging to him,
and rider and horse were trampled under the feet of the pursuing
enemy. During the wild conflict nobody paid any attention to the spot
where the Prince had fallen.
Several days later in the Schassburg market-place his torn coat and
broken weapon, found and offered for sale by some Turkish
freebooters, were bought by Michael Apafi and laid away for
safe-keeping in the treasury at Fogaras. Apafi ordered a careful
search for the body of the fallen Prince, that he might bury it with
due honors, but nobody could distinguish the Prince's corpse among the
stripped and mutilated.
* * * * *
When the battle was won Kutschuk Pasha ordered the trumpet sounded to
call back his men from the pursuit of the conquered foe. At the sound
of the retreat the Turkish horsemen came bounding back man for man, in
marked contrast to the usual custom of Turkish armies, who are as
disorderly after victory as their vanquished foes. Kutschuk had
accustomed them to stern discipline. The men returned blackened with
smoke and covered with blood, but none more so than Feriz Bey; in his
coat were the holes made by many balls and he rode his third horse
since the beginning of the conflict; two had been shot under him.
Kutschuk embraced his son without a word, kissed his brow, fastened
his own Order of Nischan on his breast and exchanged swords with him,
a mark of the highest honor among the Turks of those times.
Ferhad Aga, the leader of the right wing, was brought in dead. He had
received all kinds of wounds and was completely covered with shots,
spear-thrusts, and sabre-cuts. Kutschuk sprang from his horse, fell
weeping upon the corpse, covered it with kisses and swore by Allah
that he would not have given this man's life for all Transylvania. He
did not go into town until Ferhad had been buried. The dervishes
surrounded the body at once, washed it, wrapped it in fragrant linen,
and the Pasha himself selected a sunny spot under the trees. There the
dead man was laid with his face toward the East, a spear with waving
pennant was planted above the grave, and a guard of men set for three
days to keep off the witchlike Djinns from the body of the fallen
one.