_THE END OF COUNT BEULA._
You who have read my story know that from the very beginning I disliked
this Count Beula; and the death of my gallant brother, which rightly or
wrongly I laid at his door, changed my dislike into downright hatred.
Yet throughout this narrative I have, I trust, never shown myself unfair
to him. I have told freely how Bern, himself the most reckless of
fighters, had praised his courage, and in my account of the storming of
Buda I made no attempt to hide his gallantry. Even in this last fight I
have mentioned how bravely he rode at the Austrian hussars, and how the
glow of health had returned to his cheeks as he bared his weapon for the
fray.
No, I am fully persuaded in my own mind that Count Beula did not fear
death, but only the manner of it.
Leading or repelling a desperate charge, cheering his men to the deadly
breach, or hurling the enemy from the ramparts of an assaulted town, he
would have met death cheerfully and without flinching.
Here, on this lonely road, he was not even a soldier. The Austrians
regarded him merely as a plotter, an accomplice of the conspirators in
Vienna, an instigator of Count Latour's murder, the boon companion of a
brigand whose life was forfeit even to Hungarian laws.
Thus the fiat had gone forth that Count Beula, the representative of a
noble family, the head of a house celebrated long before the days of
Arpad, was to be taken and hanged straightway like the vilest malefactor
in the land.
The very thought of this terrible disgrace had, as he admitted, unnerved
him; its imminent approach drove him crazy. This, I am fully convinced,
was the real reason for his astounding conduct.
The robbers were by this time too far off to render any aid, though
several glanced over their shoulders to see what was happening. The
hussars had got very close to us.
My horse quivered with excitement, but did not move while I, after
several attempts, set the count free.
Exactly what was to be done I had not determined, though it occurred to
me that my animal must carry double, or that while Beula rode I must
hang on by the stirrups.
In either case, no doubt, I should have been killed or taken prisoner;
but the count solved the difficulty in his own way. He looked a strange
object as he sprang to his feet. Blood from a wound in the head
trickled down his ashy-grey cheeks; his blue eyes stared wildly; he
seemed like a man possessed, as I really believe he was.
He glanced at the approaching Austrians and shuddered; then, without a
word of warning, he leaped into my saddle and was gone.
It all happened so suddenly that I stood dumfounded. That one of my race
and nation could be guilty of such black treachery had never entered my
head.
Wild, unreasoning anger succeeded stupor, and I shook my sword at the
retreating figure; then anger yielded to pity.
Poor fellow! When the cloud had passed from his mind, what would life
be worth to him, even if the story of his cowardice were never made
known?
What misery each recurring day would bring, as he thought of the
terrible price he had paid for his life--manhood, honour, chivalry, all
irretrievably lost in that one mad moment!
For the count's own sake I almost wished that a shot from the enemy
would bring him down.
Had I been able to look into the future, the half-wish would have
changed into a whole-hearted prayer.
But apparently luck was with the count. My horse, having recovered his
wind, bore him gallantly, gaining at every stride upon the last of the
robbers.
All this takes long in the telling; in reality it lasted but a little
time, though to me it seemed an age.
With Count Beula and my horse had vanished every hope of escape.
Flight was impossible, and how could I stand against a hundred hussars?
Then I remembered Von Theyer, and gnashed my teeth at the thought of how
he would gloat over my capture.
Would he kill me? It was likely enough, since I had been found in
company with a notorious outlaw, and not many questions are asked
concerning the victims of an unsuccessful revolution.
The bandits had disappeared, and I was standing beside the body of the
count's dead horse when the leading hussars galloped up.
Von Theyer was not amongst them, I saw at a glance, and smiled.
The leader was the young sublieutenant who had attacked me so furiously
in the fight.
He had mounted a fresh horse, but his sword was sheathed, and he looked
at me quite good-naturedly.
"You must surrender!" cried he genially. "You have made a good fight,
but the odds are against you. One man, though a Magyar, cannot
overthrow a hundred."
He spoke in German, and I replied in the same tongue, giving him my
sword, and acknowledging myself his prisoner.
Just then Von Theyer arrived, and with a savage scowl exclaimed
harshly,--
"Tie that fellow up. Make sure of him, Ober, and put him on your horse.
If he gets away, you'll swing in his place."
Ober, a spare but muscular hussar, saluted respectfully, and, helped by
another fellow, tied my arms tightly.
Then they lifted me into the saddle; Ober sprang up behind, and we were
all galloping hard after Batori and his men.
Von Theyer was in the front again, where I could not see his face; but
the one glance had shown I need expect no mercy from him. Even if he
forgave my making friends with the pretty Theresa, he must always hate
the author of that disfiguring scar across his cheeks.
The wound had in truth spoiled his good looks for ever, and Von Theyer
had been a very handsome youth in the days of the insurrection.
The excitement of the ride, however, soon blew these thoughts out of my
head; and, as well as my cramped position would allow, I looked eagerly
for any signs of the fugitives. Of Batori and his men we did not catch
another glimpse; but the brigand chief left us a specimen of his
handiwork on the roadside. Von Theyer was the first to see it, and as
he stopped the others did the same.
It was a ghastly object, and my blood ran cold at sight of it.
From the bough of the very first tree we reached Count Beula hung
lifeless.
Across his breast was fastened a sheet of paper, on which some one had
written in Hungarian and German characters the words: "Hungary has no
need of cowards."
"The brigand has saved us a job," exclaimed Von Theyer. "If we catch
him we'll hang him on the same tree."
Now you may be sure I had no wish to ask a favour of Von Theyer, yet the
spectacle of the hapless count swinging there in the breeze nerved me to
ask that the body might be cut down and decently buried.
"Buried!" cried Von Theyer scornfully. "Let the dog hang. The kites
will bury him fast enough when we are gone."
"You are a brute!" I cried hotly, caring little in my indignation for
the consequences.
He raised his hand to strike me, but dropped it again.
"We will square our account later," he said, and gave the word to trot.
We rode on accordingly, but I could not drag my mind from that dreadful
place.
I saw nothing of the country through which we passed. I could only see
the grey face of the dead count staring down upon me from that primitive
gallows.
I never met Batori again, but one of his men years afterwards related
just how the tragedy happened.
The bandits, seeing me jump down to the count's assistance when his
horse fell, and thinking my animal would have to carry the two of us,
slackened their speed, so that we might the more easily catch them up.
When Count Beula arrived by himself, and they, looking back, saw me
standing alone beside the dead horse, it was easy to guess what had
happened.
The count, who was dreadfully excited, made no attempt to hide what he
had done, but explained that had the Austrians captured him they would
have hanged him on the nearest tree.
"Or beam," added Batori coolly.
"Tree or beam," answered the count. "That's the order which refers to
both of us."
"Well," said the brigand, with the laugh his men dreaded to hear, "we
shall have to ride a bit farther before we find one or the other. Come
on, count! I'll pledge my word that the Austrians shall never hang
you!"
Count Beula, little dreaming of the inner meaning of these words,
galloped along with the band, and not another word was spoken till they
reached the first tree.
Here the robber-captain called a halt, and making a sign that some of
the party should surround the count, said to him,--
"This is where the Austrians would have hung you; but now, perhaps, they
will hang Captain Botskay instead."
At this Beula, discovering a little shame, replied falteringly that they
would only imprison me for a while; but as for him, he would never have
got one step past that tree.
As soon as he had made an end of speaking, Batori raised his hand. The
count was seized, torn from his horse, bound, a noose put round his
neck, and he was placed directly beneath the fatal bough.
"Count Beula," cried the bandit, "you are a coward, and Hungary has no
need of cowards. You have left that lad, who risked his life for you,
to die. Now you shall die yourself. Though the Austrians have not
caught you, you shall be hanged all the same."
The unhappy man begged piteously--not for his life, but that he might be
shot.
Batori, however, remained inexorable, and while the poor wretch was
still pleading gave the order. The men pulled at the rope, and the body
of Count Beula hung swinging in the wind for the vultures and carrion
crows to devour.
Thus, in the strangest way imaginable, it came to pass that Count Beula
did hang like a common criminal by the roadside, though the Austrians
were not his executioners.
I pitied the poor fellow from my heart, feeling sure that when he left
me to face the enemy alone excitement had carried him out of his right
senses.
As we rode from the spot I could of course only guess at the details of
the tragedy, and indeed years passed before I met one of the actors; but
the outline of it was so bold and clear that no one could mistake the
general drift of the story, especially with Batori's sign-manual to
help.
It gladdened me in after years to learn that the unfortunate count did
not really fear death, but only the manner of it, as that was how I had
read his conduct.
Wrapped in thoughts of this terrible tragedy, I did not at first notice
that my captor's horse had dropped to the rear; for though neither Ober
nor I carried any superfluous flesh, the double weight told heavily upon
the animal.
The difference was more marked when Von Theyer changed the trot into a
gallop; and I suddenly became alive to the fact that were my arms free,
I might yet make an effort to escape.
But how was I to work this miracle?
The cords were strong, the knots skilfully tied, my arms were in a vice,
while close behind me sat the Austrian trooper armed with sword and
pistol.
However, life is sweet, and I set to work under cover of the horse's
movements to try, by contracting my muscles, to ease the bonds.
I cannot say how long the attempt lasted, but the knots on my wrist were
certainly looser, when a grim "Very sorry, captain, but the game won't
work" blew my newly-formed hopes to the winds.
"It isn't that I want you hanged," continued the hussar, "but I'd rather
see the rope round your neck than mine, and the colonel's in such a very
ugly temper there's no knowing what might happen."
The fellow spoke so coolly that I could hardly keep from laughing,
though, from my point of view, there was little humour in the situation.
However, my disappointment was not very keen, as I had hardly allowed
myself to hope for success.
The Austrian, frightened a bit perhaps at seeing I did not think escape
an impossibility, urged on his horse, resolved to keep within easy reach
of his comrades.
Towards evening we entered the village where I had stayed the previous
day, and Von Theyer ordered a halt.
The brigands had disappeared entirely, leaving no trace, and our horses
were thoroughly done up.
I looked round eagerly in search of my four acquaintances, but in the
whole place there was not a man except the landlord of the inn to be
seen; evidently the male villagers did not appreciate a visit from the
Austrian cavalry.
Von Theyer was, as my jailer had remarked, in a very ugly temper, and
scowled at me savagely as Ober pulled up his weary horse.
"Put him in there," said he, pointing to the kitchen of the inn. "And
don't forget it's your life or his."
Ober saluted and grinned.
"I'll take precious care it isn't mine, colonel," he answered.--"Here,
Franz, lend me a hand."
The hussars dispersed, and entered the cottages in search of food, while
I was pushed into the kitchen and dumped down not too softly on the
floor.
Ober and the man called Franz remained on guard, and very kindly gave me
a share of the black bread, fat bacon, and sour wine which formed their
supper.
The food was hardly suitable for delicate stomachs, but my last meal had
been supper on the previous night, and I was not in a mood to be
particular.
Von Theyer, I suppose, went to see that everything was made safe, as he
did not come in till nearly dark, and then passed with two other
officers to the inner room.
He spoke a word to Ober, but took no more notice of me than if I had
been a log of wood.
"Colonel's in one of his black fits," grumbled Ober to his comrade.
"He'll make us smart for not catching that brigand."
"Wait till he does. Time enough to grumble then," replied the other
coolly. "Who's going to take the first watch--you or I?"
Ober leaned over to examine my fastenings.
"Ach!" growled he. "We might as well both go to sleep. The Magyar's
safe enough, and I'm as tired as a dog."
"All right. It's your head at stake--not mine. But we'll make doubly
sure;" and getting some more rope, he tied me to himself.
Ober did the same on the other side, and then lay down so that I was
between the pair of them.
Presently the door opened, and half a dozen hussars coming in, wrapped
themselves in their long coats, and settled down to sleep.
I cannot say how they had fared in the matter of food, but their breath
made it plain they had discovered plenty of liquor.
Night came. The sound of conversation in the colonel's room died away.
In the kitchen all was silent save the loud snoring of the half-drunken
men.
In the silence and darkness I made an effort to set myself free; but a
few trials convinced me that Ober had made no mistake.
True, he and Franz were so exhausted by their forced marches that even a
smart tug failed to waken them; but, on the other hand, the knots were
so skilfully tied that it was impossible to loosen them.
At last I abandoned the attempt and tried to sleep, but the haunting
face of the dead count and anxiety on my own behalf made that no easy
matter.
It was strange that Von Theyer had not hanged me at once, and I wondered
why he should wish to save my life.
I felt sure it was not out of kindness, and concluded he was governed by
the same feelings that lead a cat to play with its victim.
Just here my reverie was broken by an astounding circumstance.
One of the hussars, turning about in his sleep, had brought himself
close to the feet of the Austrian Franz, and by a series of wriggling
movements was constantly changing his position.
Of course I could not see him plainly, but I could tell that the dark
figure was moving, though very, very slowly, until it reached my head.
I lay perfectly still, save for the violent beating of my heart, which
would not be controlled.
What did this by-play mean?
Naturally, perhaps, my first thoughts flew to Von Theyer. But then he
had no need of foul play. By twisting his orders a little he could
easily justify himself in swinging me up, and who was ever likely to
question his action?
No, it could not be Von Theyer; but that only deepened the mystery.
Very stealthily a hand crept from the folds of the cloak, and in the
fingers was something which glistened.
At this my heart gave one great throb, and then seemed to cease beating.
The glittering object was a long, straight knife, and as the sheen of it
fell across my eyes I tried, but tried in vain, to shout for help.
"Be still!"
The words were spoken in Hungarian, hardly above a breath, and I fancied
there was a somewhat familiar ring in the voice.
I lay quite quiet, not attempting to speak, and the knife, creeping
down, began to rub edgewise against the cords that fastened my wrists.
The steel was sharp, the worker a master-hand, and the hempen threads
fell apart as if by magic.
A sharp jerk would have set my wrists free, when Franz stirred uneasily,
and though not even half awake, tugged at the rope which bound me to
him.
Then he turned over again and was as soundly asleep as ever.
It was a terrible moment for the three of us, but most terrible of all
for the unconscious Franz.
The dark figure at my head lay motionless, but the hand underneath that
innocent-looking coat held, firmly grasped, a sharp, keen blade.
However, the danger past, the knife again slid down and finished its
work. The fellow then wriggled round to our feet, and cut the cords on
my legs; only the ropes binding me to my guards remained to be severed.
My excitement grew to an intense pitch; I had to force myself into
silence. I wanted to jump up and scream aloud.
My unknown rescuer had apparently no nerves. The steel was pushed
forward steadily, without a tremor, and the rope which bound me to Franz
was cut.
One link alone remained, and I thought my brain must give way under the
strain.
Several of the hussars tossed restlessly, muttering unintelligible
words, while here in the very midst of them, within a few yards of their
leader himself, was this daring adventurer calmly setting free the
victim of that leader's vengeance.
Twice, owing to a trooper's restlessness, he had to stop; but my unknown
saviour was as patient as daring, and after each halt he resumed his
work.
With the snapping of the last thread I felt as if I really must break
into a fit of hysterical laughter, or waken Von Theyer by a defiant
taunt; but, alas! my childish glee was soon over. As I was stealing
cautiously away, Ober sprang to his feet.
In an instant two dark figures were grappling with each other, swaying
this way and that; then a loud cry of "Treachery!" came from the
Austrian; there was a swift flash of steel, and poor Ober sank,
groaning.
"This way!" shouted my rescuer, and I darted after him towards the door.
The troopers jumping up tried to stop us, but the stranger knocked down
several with some heavy weapon, and cleared a passage.
The confusion was tremendous, and the officers, coming from their
apartment, vainly endeavoured to find its cause.
We were at the door, outside, free!
"Follow!" cried the stranger, without wasting words; but as he turned
for the open country, dozens of troopers poured into the street.
My guide dashed away, and was lost in the darkness, and I should have
got clear but for one of the hussars, who flung himself right across my
path.
Down I went with a crash, and though rising quickly, a smart blow on the
head behind sent me sprawling, and the next instant I was in the midst
of the angry crowd.