against a shower of stones?"
At that instant several large stones were dashed through the
windows, breaking the furniture against which they fell.
"Only wait," said Simon, "until I speak with them. I am sure I
shall pacify them. I can speak their language and I know them all--
just let me go to them."
"A vain idea! If you sue for mercy they will certainly kill you,
but if you show courage, you may bring them to their senses. You
had better stay and take a gun."
But the old man was already out of hearing, and hurrying
downstairs, he went out of a back door into the court, which the
Wallachians had not yet taken possession of.
They were endeavoring to break down one of the stone pillars of the
iron gate with their axes and hammers, and had already succeeded in
making an aperture, through which one of the gang now climbed.
Old Simon recognized him. "Lupey, my son, what do you want here?"
said the old man. "Have we ever offended you? Do you forget all
that I have done for you?--how I cured your wife when she was so
ill, and got you off from the military; and how, when your ox died,
I gave you two fine bullocks to replace it? Do you not know me, my
son Lupey?"
"I am not your son Lupey now; I am a 'malcontent!'" cried the
Wallachian, aiming a blow with a heavy hammer at the old man's
head.
Uttering a deep groan, Simon fell lifeless to the ground.
The rest of the party saw the scene from the tower.
Barnabas rushed from the room like a maddened tiger, while Jozsef,
retiring cautiously behind the embrasure of the window, aimed his
gun as they were placing his uncle's head upon a spike, and shot
the first who raised it. Another seized it, and the next instant
he, too, fell to the earth; another and another, as many as
attempted to raise the head, till, finally, none dared approach.
The widow loaded the guns while Tamas sat quietly in an armchair.
Meanwhile Barnabas had hurried to the attic, where several large
fragments of iron had been stowed away, and dragging them to a
window which overlooked the entrance, he waited until the gang had
assembled round the door, and were trying to break in; when lifting
an enormous piece with gigantic strength, he dropped it on the
heads of the besiegers.
Fearful cries arose and the gang, who were at the door, fled right
and left, leaving four or five of their number crushed beneath the
ponderous mass.
The next moment they returned with redoubled fury, dashing stones
against the windows and the roof, while the door resounded with the
blows of their clubs.
Notwithstanding the stones which were flying round him, Barnabas
stood at the window dashing heavy iron masses, and killing two or
three men every time.
His brother meanwhile continued firing from the tower, and not a
ball was aimed in vain. The besiegers had lost a great number, and
began to fall back, after fruitless efforts to break in the door,
when a footman entered breathless to inform Barnabas that the
Wallachians were beginning to scale the opposite side of the castle
with ladders, and that the servants were unable to resist them.
Barnabas rushed to the spot.
Two servants lay mortally wounded in one of the back rooms, through
the windows of which the Wallachians were already beginning to
enter, while another ladder had been placed against the opposite
window, which they were beginning to scale as Barnabas entered.
"Here, wretches!" he roared furiously, and, seizing the ladder with
both hands, shook it so violently that the men were precipitated
from it, and then lifting it with supernatural strength, he dashed
it against the opposite one, which broke with the force of the
weight thrown against it, the upper part falling backwards with the
men upon it, while one of the party remained hanging from the
window-sill, and, after immense exertions to gain a footing, he too
fell to the earth.
Barnabas rushed into the next room grinding his teeth, his lips
foaming, and his face of a livid hue; so appalling was his
appearance, that one of the gang, who had been the first to enter
by the window, turned pale with terror, and dropped his axe.
Taking advantage of this, Barnabas darted on his enemy, and
dragging him with irresistible force to the window, he dashed him
from it.
"On here! as many as you are!" he shouted furiously, the blood
gushing from his mouth from the blow of a stone. "On! all who wish
a fearful death!"
At that instant, a shriek of terror rose within the house.
The Wallachians had discovered the little back door which Simon had
left open, and, stealing through it, were already inside the house,
when the shrieks of a servant girl gave the besieged notice of
their danger.
Barnabas, seizing his club, hurried in the direction of the sounds;
he met his brother on the stairs, who had likewise heard the cry,
and hastened thither with his gun in his hand, accompanied by the
widow.
"Go, sister!" said Jozsef, "take my wife and children to the
attics; we will try to guard the staircase step by step. Kiss them
all for me. If we die, the villains will put us all in one grave--
we shall meet again!"
The widow retired.
The two brothers silently pressed hands, and then, standing on the
steps, awaited their enemies. They did not wait long.
The bloodhounds with shouts of vengeance rushed on the narrow stone
stairs.
"Hah! thus near I love to have you, dogs of hell!" cried Barnabas,
raising his iron club with both hands, and dealing such blows right
and left, that none whom it reached rose again. The stairs were
covered with the dead and wounded, while their death cries, and the
sound of the heavy club, echoed fearfully through the vaulted
building.
The foremost of the gang retreated as precipitately as they had
advanced, but were continually pressed forward again by the members
from behind, while Barnabas drove them back unweariedly, cutting an
opening through them with the blows of his club.
He had already beaten them back nearly to the bottom of the stairs,
when one of the gang, who had concealed himself in a niche, pierced
him through the back with a spike.
Dashing his club amongst the retreating crowd, he turned with a cry
of rage, and seizing his murderer by the shoulders, dragged him
down with him to the ground.
The first four who rushed to help the murderer were shot dead by
Jozsef Bardy, who, when he had fired off both his muskets, still
defended his prostrated brother with the butt-end of one, until he
was overpowered and disarmed; after which a party of them carried
him out to the iron cross, and crucified him on it amidst the most
shocking tortures.
On trying to separate the other brother from his murderer, they
found them both dead. With his last strength Barnabas had choked
his enemy, whom he still held firmly in his deadly grip, and they
were obliged to cut off his hand in order to disengage the
Wallachian's body.
Tamas, the eldest brother, now alone survived. Seated in his
armchair he calmly awaited his enemies, with a large silver
chandelier burning on the table before him.
As the noise approached his chamber, he drew from its jeweled
sheath his broad curved sword, and, placing it on the table before
him, proceeded coolly to examine the ancient blade, which was
inscribed with unknown characters.
At last the steps were at the door; the handle was turned--it had
not even been locked.
The magnate rose, and, taking his sword from the table, he stood
silently and calmly before the enemies, who rushed upon him with
fearful oaths, brandishing their weapons still reeking with the
blood of his brothers.
The nobleman stood motionless as a statue until they came within
two paces of him, when suddenly the bright black steel gleamed
above his head, and the foremost man fell at his feet with his
skull split to the chin. The next received a deep gash in the
shoulder of his outstretched arm, but not a word escaped the
magnate's lips, his countenance retained its cold and stern
expression as he looked at his enemies in calm disdain, as if to
say, "Even in combat a nobleman is worth ten boors."
Warding off with the skill of a professed swordsman every blow
aimed at him, he coolly measured his own thrusts, inflicting severe
wounds on his enemies' faces and heads; but the more he evaded them
the more furious they became. At last he received a severe wound
in the leg from a scythe, and fell on one knee; but without
evincing the slightest pain, he still continued fighting with the
savage mob, until, after a long and obstinate struggle, he fell
without a murmur, or even a death-groan.
The enraged gang cut his body to pieces, and in a few minutes they
had hoisted his head on his own sword. Even then the features
retained their haughty, contemptuous expression.
He was the last man of the family with whom they had to combat,
but more than a hundred of their own band lay stretched in the
court and before the windows, covering the stairs and rooms with
heaps of bodies, and when the shouts of triumph ceased for an
instant, the groans of the wounded and the dying were heard from
every side.
None now remained but women and children. When the Wallachians
broke into the castle, the widow had taken them all to the attics,
leaving the door open, that her brothers might find refuge in case
they were forced to retreat; and here the weaker members of the
family awaited the issue of the combat which was to bring them life
or death, listening breathlessly to the uproar, and endeavoring,
from its confused sounds, to determine good or evil.
At last the voices died away, and the hideous cries of the
besiegers ceased. The trembling women believed that the
Wallachians had been driven out, and, breathing more freely, each
awaited with impatience the approach of brother--husband--sons.
At last a heavy step was heard on the stairs leading to the garret.
"This is Barnabas's step!" cried the widow, joyfully, and still
holding the pistols in her hand, she ran to the door of the garret.
Instead of her expected brother, a savage form, drunken with blood,
strode towards her, his countenance burning with rage and triumph.
The widow started back, uttering a shriek of terror, and then with
that unaccountable courage of desperation, she aimed one of the
pistols at the Wallachian's breast, who instantly fell backwards on
one of his comrades, who followed close behind. The other pistol
she discharged into her own bosom.
And now we must draw a veil over the scene that followed. What
happened there must not be witnessed by human eyes.
Suffice it to say, they murdered every one, women and children,
with the most refined and brutal cruelty, and then threw their dead
bodies out of the window from which Barnabas had dashed down the
iron fragments on the besiegers' heads.
They left the old grandmother to the last, that she might witness
the extermination of her whole family. Happily for her, her eyes
had ceased to distinguish the light of sun, and ere long the light
of an eternal glory had risen upon them.
The Wallachians then dug a common grave for the bodies, and threw
them all in together. The little one, whom his parents loved so
well, they cast in alive, his nurse having escaped from the attics
and carried him downstairs, where they had been overtaken by the
savages.
"There are only eleven here!" cried one of the gang, who had
counted the bodies, "one of them must be still alive somewhere--
there ought to be twelve!" And then they once more rushed through
the empty rooms, overturning all the furniture, and cutting up and
breaking everything they met with. They searched the garrets and
every corner of the cellars, but without success.
At last a yell of triumph was heard. One of them had discovered a
door which, being painted of the same color as the walls, had
hitherto escaped their observation. It concealed a small apartment
in the turret. With a few blows of their axes it was broken open,
and they rushed in.
"Ah! a rare booty!" cried the foremost of the ruffians, while, with
bloodthirsty curiosity, the others pressed round to see the new
victim.
There lay the little orphan with the golden hair; her eyes were
closed and a death-like hue had overspread her beautiful features.
Her aunt, with an instinctive foreboding, had concealed her here
when she took the others to the attic.
The orphan grasped a sharp knife in her hand, with which she had
attempted to kill herself; and when her fainting hands refused the
fearful service, she had swooned in despair.
"Ah!" cried the Wallachians, in savage admiration, their
bloodthirsty countenances assuming a still more hellish expression.
"This is a common booty!" cried several voices together.
"A beautiful girl! A noble lady! ha, ha! She will just suit the
tattered Wallachians!" And with their foul and bloody hands, they
seized the young girl by her fair slight arms.
"Ha! what is going on here?" thundered a voice from behind.
The Wallachians looked round.
A figure stood among them fully a head taller than all the rest.
He wore a brass helmet, in which a deep cleft was visible, and held
in his left hand a Roman sword. His features bore the ancient
Roman character.
"The Decurio!" they murmured, making way for him.
"What is going on here?" he repeated; and seizing the fainting girl
in the arms of a Wallachian, he ordered him to lay her down.
"She is one of our enemies," replied the savage insolently.
"Silence, knave! Does one of the Roumin nation seek enemies in
women? Lay her down instantly."
"Not so, leader," interrupted Lupey; "our laws entitle us to a
division of the spoil. This girl is our booty; she belongs to us
after the victory."
"I know our laws better than you do, churl! Due division of spoil
is just and fair; but we cast lots for what cannot be divided."
"True, leader: a horse or an ox cannot be divided, and for them we
cast lots, but in this case--"
"I have said it cannot, and I should like to know who dares to say
it can!"
Lupey knew the Decurio too well to proffer another syllable, and
the rest turned silently from the girl; one voice alone was heard
to exclaim, "It can!"
"Who dares to say that?" cried the Decurio; "let him come forward!"
A young Wallachian, with long plaited hair, confronted the Decurio.
He was evidently intoxicated, and replied, striking his breast with
his fist: "I said so."
Scarcely had the words escaped his lips, than the Decurio, raising
his left hand, severed the contradictor's head at one stroke from
his body; and as it fell back, the lifeless trunk dropped on its
knees before the Decurio, with its arms around him, as if in
supplication.
"Dare anyone still say it can?" asked Numa, with merciless rigor.
The Wallachians turned silently away.
"Put the horses immediately to the carriage; the girl must be
placed in it, and brought to Topanfalvo. Whoever has the good
fortune of winning her, has a right to receive her as I confide her
to you; but if anyone of you should dare to offend her in the
slightest degree, even by a look or a smile, remember this and take
example from it," continued the Decurio, pointing with his sword to
the headless body of the young man. "And now you may go--destroy
and pillage."
At these words the band scattered right and left, the Decurio with
the fainting girl, whom he lifted into the carriage and confided to
some faithful retainers of the family, pointing out the road across
the hills.
In half an hour the castle was in flames and the Wallachians,
descending into the cellars, had knocked out the bottoms of the
casks, and bathed in the sea of flowing wine and brandy, singing
wild songs, while the fire burst from every window enveloping the
blackened walls; after which the revelers departed, leaving their
dead, and those who were too helplessly intoxicated to follow them.
Meanwhile they brought the young girl to the Decurio's house, and
as each man considered that he had an equal right to the prize,
they kept a vigilant eye upon her, and none dared offend her so
much as by a look.
When the Decurio arrived, they all crowded into the house with him,
filling the rooms, as well as the entrance and porch.
Having laid out the spoil before them on the ground, the leader
proceeded to divide it into equal shares, retaining for himself a
portion of ten men, after which most of the band dispersed to their
homes; but a good many remained, greedily eyeing their still
unappropriated victim, who lay pale and motionless as the dead on
the couch of lime-boughs where they had laid her.
"You are waiting, I suppose, to cast lots for the girl?" said Numa
dryly.
"Certainly," replied Lupey, with an insolent leer; "and his she
will be who casts highest. If two, or ten, or twenty of us should
cast the same, we have an equal right to her."
"I tell you only one can have her," interrupted Numa sternly.
"Then those who win must cast again among each other."
"Casting the die will not do; we may throw all day long, and two
may remain at the end."
"Well, let us play cards for her."
"I cannot allow that, the more cunning will deceive the simpler."
"Well, write our names upon bricks, and throw them all into a
barrel; and whichever name you draw will take away the girl."
"I can say what name I please, for none of you can read."
The Wallachian shook his head impatiently.
"Well, propose something yourself, Decurio."
"I will. Let us try which of us can give the best proof of courage
and daring; and whoever can do that, shall have the girl, for he
best deserves her."
"Well said!" cried the men unanimously. "Let us each relate what
we have done, and then you can judge which among us is the
boldest."
"I killed the first Bardy in the court in sight of his family."
"I broke in the door, when that terrible man was dashing down the
iron on our heads."
"But it was I who pierced his heart."
"I mounted the stairs first."
"I fought nearly half an hour with the noble in the cloth of gold."
And thus they continued. Each man, according to his own account,
was the first and the bravest--each had performed miracles of
valor.
"You have all behaved with great daring, but it is impossible now
to prove what has happened. The proof must be given here, by all
of us together, before my eyes, indisputably."
"Well, tell us how," said Lupey impatiently, always fearing that
the Decurio was going to deceive them.
"Look here," said Numa, drawing a small cask from beneath the bed--
and in doing so he observed that the young girl half opened her
eyes, as she glanced at him, and then closed them. She was awake,
and had heard all.
As he stooped down, Numa whispered gently in her ear: "Fear
nothing," and then drew the cask into the middle of the room.
The Wallachians stared with impatient curiosity as he knocked out
the bottom of the cask with a hatchet.
"This cask contains gunpowder," continued Decurio. "We will light
a match and place it in the middle of the cask, and whoever remains
longest in the room is undoubtedly the most courageous; for there
is enough here to blow up not only this house, but the whole of the
neighboring village."
At this proposition several of the men began to murmur.
"If any are afraid they are not obliged to remain," said the
Decurio dryly.
"I agree," said Lupey doggedly. "I will remain here; and perhaps,
after all, it is poppy-seeds you have got there--it looks very much
like them."
The Decurio stooped down, and taking a small quantity between his
fingers, threw it into the Wallachian's pipe, which immediately
exploded, causing him to stagger backwards, and the next instant he
stood with a blackened visage, sans beard and moustache, amidst the
jeers and laughter of his comrades.
This only exasperated him the more.
"I will stay for all that!" he exclaimed; and lifting up the pipe
which he had dropped, he walked over and lit it at the burning
match which the Decurio was placing in the cask.
Upon this, two-thirds of the men left the room.
The rest assembled around the cask with much noise and bravado,
swearing by heaven and earth that they would stay until the match
burned out; but the more they swore, the more they looked at the
burning match, the flame of which was slowly approaching the
gunpowder.
For some minutes their courage remained unshaken, but after that
they ceased to boast, and began to look at each other in silent
consternation, while their faces grew paler every instant. At last
one or two rose and stood aloof; the others followed their example,
and some grinding their teeth with rage, others chattering with
terror, they all began to leave the room.
Only two remained beside the cask; Numa, who stood with his arms
folded leaning against the foot of the bed; and Lupey, who was
sitting on the iron of the cask with his back turned to the danger,
and smoking furiously.
As soon as they were alone, the latter glanced behind him and saw
the flame was within an inch of the powder.
"I'll tell you what, Decurio," he said, springing up, "we are only
two left, don't let us make food of each other; let us come to an
understanding on this matter."
"If you are tired of waiting, I can press the match lower."
"This is no jest, Numa; you are risking your own life. How can you
wish to send us both to hell for the sake of a pale girl? But I'll
tell you what--I'll give her up to you if you will only promise
that she shall be mine when you are tired of her."
"Remain here and win her--if you dare."
"To what purpose?" said the Wallachian, in a whining voice, and in
his impatience he began to tear his clothes and stamp with his
feet, like a petted child.
"What I have said stands good," said the Decurio; "whoever remains
longest has the sole right to the lady."
"Well, I will stay, of course; but what do I gain by it? I know
you will stay, too, and then the devil will have us both; and I
speak not only for myself when I say I do not wish that."
"If you do not wish it, you had better be gone."
"Well, I don't care--if you will give me a golden mark."
"Not the half; stay if you like it."
"Decurio, this is madness! The flame will reach the powder
immediately."
"I see it."
"Well, say a dollar."
"Not a whit."
"May the seventy-seven limited thunder-bolt strike you on St.
Michael's Day!" roared the Wallachian fiercely, as he rushed to the
door; but after he had gone out, he once more thrust his head in
and cried: "Will you give even a form? I am not gone yet."
"Nor have I removed the match; you may come back." The Wallachian
slammed the door, and ran for his life, till exhausted and
breathless he sank under a tree, where he lay with his tunic over
his head, and his ears covered with his hands, only now and then
raising his head nervously, to listen for the awful explosion which
was to blow up the world.
Meanwhile Numa coolly removed the match, which was entirely burnt
down; and throwing it into the grate, he stepped over to the bed
and whispered into the young girl's ear: "You are free!"
Trembling, she raised herself in the bed and taking the Decurio's
large, sinewy hands within her own, she murmured: "Be merciful! O
hear my prayer, and kill me!"
The Decurio stroked the fair hair of the lovely suppliant. "Poor
child!" he replied gently; "you have nothing to fear; nobody will
hurt you now."
"You have saved me from these fearful people--now save me from
yourself!"
"You have nothing to fear from me," replied the Dacian, proudly; "I
fight for liberty alone, and you may rest as securely within my
threshold as on the steps of the altar. When I am absent you need
have no anxiety, for these walls are impregnable, and if anyone
should dare offend you by the slightest look, that moment shall be
the last of his mortal career. And when I am at home you have
nothing to fear, for woman's image never dwelt within my heart.
Accept my poor couch, and may your rest be sweet!--Imre Bardy slept
on it last night."
"Imre!" exclaimed the starting girl. "You have seen him, then?--
oh! where is he!"
The Decurio hesitated. "He should not have delayed so long," he
murmured, pressing his hand against his brow; "all would have been
otherwise."
"Oh! let me go to him; if you know where he is."
"I do not know, but I am certain he will come here if he is alive--
indeed he must come."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because he will seek you."
"Did he then speak--before you?"
"As he lay wounded on that couch, he pronounced your name in his
dreams. Are you not that Jolanka Bardy whom they call 'The Angel'?
I knew you by your golden locks."