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[Illustration: KING MATTHIAS AND THE BEGGAR BOY]
KING MATTHIAS AND THE BEGGAR BOY.
[Illustration: "Come here, gossip Jew; there is nothing to fear." Page
66.]
[Illustration: KING MATTHIAS AND THE BEGGAR BOY. T. Nelson & Sons]
KING MATTHIAS AND THE BEGGAR BOY
ADAPTED FROM THE HUNGARIAN OF BARON NICHOLAS JOSIKA
BY SELINA GAYE
Author of "Ilka: The Captive Maiden," "Dickie Winton," &c. &c.
[Illustration]
T. NELSON AND SONS
London, Edinburgh, and New York
1902
CONTENTS.
I. MR. SAMSON'S CASTLE, 9
II. MISKA THE BEGGAR BOY, 21
III. "TOUCH ME AT YOUR PERIL!" 32
IV. IN THE ROBBER'S NEST, 42
V. CAUGHT, 53
VI. I AM THE KING'S PAGE! 68
VII. SENT TO PRISON, 80
VIII. THE BEGGAR BOY'S SONG, 94
IX. THE KING'S WHIM, 109
KING MATTHIAS AND THE BEGGAR BOY.
CHAPTER I.
MR. SAMSON'S CASTLE.
Towards the close of a gloomy day in autumn, a very dusty traveller was
riding quietly up to a castle which stood perched on a height in one of
the northern counties of Hungary. A very extraordinary-looking castle it
was, if it was a castle at all, which one might be inclined to doubt;
for it looked more like a square block hewn by giants out of the ribs of
the mountain, and left to itself for centuries, until its walls had
become mouldy and moss-grown. One thing which gave it an odd appearance
was that, as far as could be seen, it had no roof; the fact being that
it was built round a quadrangle, and that the roof, or rather
half-roof, sloped downwards and inwards from the top of the outer walls.
But what was even more remarkable still was that the building had
neither door nor window in any one of its four sides; so that how the
inhabitants, if there were any, ever went in or out, was quite a
mystery.
People had had a good deal to say about the owner of this extraordinary
stronghold for many a year past, and all sorts of wild stories were told
of him. But no one but his own hired servants and men-at-arms had ever
set eyes upon him--so far as they knew, that is to say.
Neither he nor his servants were ever to be seen coming or going, and
how they managed was quite unknown; but for all that they made their
presence felt, and very unpleasantly felt too.
The man on horseback had drawn nearer by this time, and was gazing up at
the huge pile, scanning it carefully, but quite unable to discover so
much as a chink or cranny in the grey, weather-beaten walls.
At last he shook his head and said with a smile, "Why, the castle is in
such a strong position and so well fortified that it must be almost
impregnable! But of course it is inhabited, and the inhabitants are
human beings, not demons; and wherever human beings can dwell, human
beings must also be able to enter.
"Well, I am here at last! and little enough Mr. Samson guesses what
manner of visitor has come so close to his hiding-place. I am glad I
came, for it is always best to see with one's own eyes. And now that I
am here, the next thing is how to get in. Let us look and consider. No
use," he continued, after a moment or two; "I can't think of any way. If
I could only see some one, a living creature of some sort, to make
inquiries of! Nonsense! I'll wager I know more about the nest than any
one hereabouts.
"But still, I have been six hours on horseback, and as far as the eye
can see there is no wayside inn or public-house or even farm-house in
sight, and a man can't help being tired even if he be a vice-count--or
more! Well, let's be going on," he went on, putting his horse once more
in motion.
The young man before us was of middle height and strongly built, with
fiery dark eyes, and curly chestnut hair; he was very plainly clad, and
his horse was no better caparisoned than if it had belonged to some son
of the _puszta_, or steppes.
Quietly, and with eyes and ears both on the alert, he rode round the
height on which the fortress stood.
"If I don't see anything," he said to himself with a laugh, "they don't
see me; let's be off!
"Eh, and yet I should be glad if I could come across a human being of
some sort, if he were no bigger than the rowel of my spur.--Hi! hi
there, _foeldi_ [countryman]," cried the horseman all at once, as he
caught sight of some one trudging along the road round the shoulder of
the hill.
The wayfarer thus addressed turned and came up to him, and as soon as he
was within speaking distance he said in humble tones, "_Uram_ [sir], I
am hungry; I have not eaten a morsel to-day. Have pity on me,
_kegyelmed_[1] [your grace]."
[Footnote 1: A common form of polite address in Hungarian.]
Then he cast a glance, not altogether devoid of envy, at the dainty
horseman, who was so comfortably clad, and who looked, to judge by his
countenance, as if his hunger had been well satisfied.
"Here," said the rider, giving the beggar a small coin; for the boy
attracted him, and he thought to himself that he could hardly ever
remember to have seen a face with such a peculiarly taking expression.
Moreover, in spite of the mud and dirt with which his skin was
incrusted, it was impossible not to be struck by his fine features,
which were of a purely Oriental type, and lighted up by a pair of large
dark eyes as black as the raven's wing.
The man on horseback had given the lad a trifle on the spur of the
moment, because he looked so poverty-stricken; but a second glance made
him fancy, rightly or wrongly, that he was not a beggar of the common
sort, to whom people give careless alms because he stirs their pity for
the moment. This beggar excited something more and better than mere
pity--at least in the man before us. Some people, it is true, might not
have noticed the expression of the lad's face; but to those who had eyes
it told of something more than poverty and distress. It was not the look
of the beggar who is content to be a beggar, who would rather beg than
work, rather live upon others than labour for himself. One might almost
fancy, indeed, that the lad was ashamed of his present plight, and
rather indignant with things in general for not providing him with some
better employment.
The horseman was one well accustomed to reading character, and rarely
mistaken in his judgment; and being touched as well as favourably
impressed by the boy, it suddenly occurred to him that he might be
turned to account.
"Just answer me a few questions, my boy, will you?" said he. "Can you
write?"
"No, I can't; I have never had any teaching."
And, indeed, writing was a by no means general accomplishment in the
reign of the good King Matthias, when many of the first nobles in the
land could not even sign their own names. But still there seem to have
been elementary schools not only in the towns but in other places as
well, so that the question was not altogether unreasonable.
"Then you can't read either?"
"Of course not; as if it were likely!"
"Have you ever been in service?"
"Never, sir, thank Heaven; but I have worked as a day-labourer."
"Why don't you turn soldier?"
"Because my head is worth more than my arms," said the beggar: "besides,
they wouldn't take such a ragged chap as I."
"Are you to be trusted, I wonder?"
The boy looked up at the speaker at this, and then answered with an air
of wounded pride, "I have not had a good meal for a fortnight, yet I
have not stolen so much as a plum from a tree. You may trust me with a
purse full of money."
"Well, _oecsem_[2] [little brother], it is possible you may be a regular
rascal, for anything I know to the contrary at present; but you have a
good face, and I should like to see such a head as yours on many a pair
of shoulders which are covered with gold and marten-fur. Well, I don't
care! I am going to trust a good pair of eyes and a clear forehead.
Listen, boy. I like you. Stand here before me, and let me see what you
have got in you, gossip! for if you hold good measure, you have been
born under a lucky star, I can tell you."
[Footnote 2: A common way of addressing younger persons.]
"You can amuse yourself in return for the money you have given me," said
the boy, looking repeatedly at his gift; "you may take my measure as
much as you like, and I will be looking at the horse meantime. Ah! you
are a lucky man to have such a horse as that. How he snorts! and his
eyes flash as if he were Jatos[3] himself."
[Footnote 3: A magic horse.]
"Boy!" said the horseman, who looked as if he were at least a
vice-count--"boy, you are up to the mark so far; there is room for good
measure in you, and a few pints over! But, _koma_ [gossip], I have
often seen a good-looking cask full of nothing but bad, sour wine. Let
us see whether you hold one full measure."
"One measure?" said the beggar, offended. "I shouldn't be my father's
son if my wretched skin did not cover a man of a hundred measures,
especially when I have had a good dinner. It's a couple of weeks now
since I have had a stomachful when I lay down at night."
"My little brother," said the horseman, "a fellow who is ruled by his
stomach is not worth a farthing. You have lost three measures out of
your cask by that foolish speech."
"Ha," said the beggar boldly, "my stomach grumbles badly, and it is no
joke when it goes on for long. However, it's no wonder you can't guess
what it feels like to be hungry, for I daresay you are a hall-porter, or
even maybe a poultry-dealer, and such people as those are always well
fed."
The horseman laughed. "You have got the cow's udder between its horns
now, koma; but whatever and whoever I may be, I am a great man while my
purse is full, and so listen to me. Do you see that castle there?"
"To be sure."
"Have you ever been inside?"
"Well, to be sure, I am well off, I am! but may the Tatars catch me, if
I would take my teeth in there!"
"Hm!--and why?"
"Why?" asked the beggar, considering; "I really can't tell you. But what
should take me there? Besides--well, they say it is inhabited by demons,
and that they live on Jews' flesh. The Jews are constantly going there,
just as if they had been invited to dinner; but they get eaten up."
"Simple Stevie of Debreczin!"[4] cried the horseman. "Do you believe
such nonsense?"
[Footnote 4: "Simple Stevie" is said to have been a student in the
college of Debreczin, where he was notorious for his simplicity.]
The beggar grinned. "What would you have?" said he. "People say a great
many things of all sorts, and a fellow like me just believes and
blunders along with the rest! If His Grace in there does live on Jews'
flesh, I wish him good health; but for my own part I had rather have a
little bit of chicken than roast Jew."
"Now, boy, listen. Just look there," began the horseman again: "if you
can get into that castle and bring me word again how the world wags
there, you shall have a hundred gold ducats in your hand."
"A hundred ducats!" cried the beggar. "Why, I could buy a whole county
with that, surely!"
"Not so much as that, little brother," said the rider; "but still it is
a great deal of money!"
"And who will give it me?" asked the beggar, looking eagerly at the
horseman.
"I myself," he answered. "But I am slow to believe people, and so I want
first to know whether I can trust you."
The boy still had his eyes turned towards the castle. "Thunder!" said he
presently, "the devil himself doesn't get in there by the proper way.
But just wait a moment, sir, and let me think a little. So they don't
live on Jews' flesh in there, eh, sir?"
"To be sure not! I fancy they live on something better than that."
"But still the Jews do go in and out--at least so people say, and what
is in everybody's mouth is half true at all events."
"Right; but what then?"
"Why, I'll be a Jew, and go in, if they don't eat people up."
"But how?"
"I don't know yet. Give me a little time, or I shall not be able to hit
upon it."
"Of course. And now listen. Before I trust you blindly, I am going to
prove you." He drew a sealed letter from his breast, wrote a few lines
on the back with a pencil, and went on: "See this letter? Make haste
with it to Visegrad; ask for admission, and say merely that you have
brought the governor a letter from his son. Do you quite understand? But
I don't know your name; what is it?"
"Tornay Mihaly [Michael Tornay]," answered the boy; and then went on, "I
see! what is there difficult about that? I quite understand: you are the
son of the governor of Visegrad, and you are sending a letter to your
father."
"Right!" said the horseman. "You will come straight on to Buda with the
answer, and ask at the palace for Mr. Galeotti, and give it into his
hands. You won't forget the name?"
"Galeotti," repeated the boy. "But will they let me in, in such rags?"
"You will get proper clothes and a horse in Visegrad."
"A horse!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes sparkling. "I have never done
anything more than help a coachman to swim his horses now and then, and
now I shall have a horse myself!"
"For service, gossip; and don't you go off with it!"
The beggar's face was all aflame. "Am I a horse-stealer," he cried,
"just because your elbows don't show through your dolmany, while my
clothes are so full of holes that twenty cats together would not be able
to catch one mouse in them?"
"Don't be angry," said the horseman, who was more and more pleased with
the boy every moment. "Here, as a sign that I put more trust in some
people's faces than I do in other people's written word--here is a purse
of money. And now hurry off; you have no time to lose. The sooner you
bring back the answer, the more faith I shall have in you."
The boy stared at the purse, and being very hungry, poor fellow, it
seemed to him to be full of ham and sausage.
"You must be an estate-manager," he gasped, "or--a bishop, to have so
much money."
"What does that matter to you?" answered the horseman. "Make haste, and
I shall see whether you are a man of your word."
The lad raised his tattered cap, and the next moment he was out of
sight.