_LED OUT TO EXECUTION._
I pass rapidly over the period of suspense which succeeded my
examination.
Even now it is painful to look back on the time when I fully expected
every hour of each ensuing day to be my last.
Yet night and morning came and went, and I still remained in the dark
cell, unable to learn anything concerning my fate.
The only relief to the monotony was the coming of the jailer, and he was
such a surly fellow that his visits gave me more pain than pleasure.
A whole week passed in this way, and then I was again taken from the
cell and marched to another part of the fortress.
At every step I gazed round anxiously, expecting to see the preparations
for my execution.
Young, strong, and healthy, I had no wish to die; yet this horrible
uncertainty, this alternation of hope and fear, was actually worse than
death.
The faces of the soldiers were stolid and impassive--nothing could be
learned from them; while the officer did not even look at me. We
crossed the courtyard, and my pulses throbbed with fresh hope as I was
led into a spacious room, where a stout, florid man in military uniform
sat at a table writing.
Only two of the escort had entered with the officer, and these stood
with fixed bayonets.
The florid man left his chair, and pointing to another, said coldly,--
"Sit down there, Herr Botskay. By order of the general commanding, you
are to answer these questions in writing, an hour being given you for
the task."
To all appearance I was quite cool, but the blood surged through my
veins like a rushing torrent, and I could not see the questions on the
paper for dizziness.
Apathy and despair vanished. The latent spark of hope kindled into a
fresh flame. Here was another chance of life and freedom. Alas! my new
and beautiful castle was built on very frail foundations.
The questions numbered nearly a dozen, and were framed in such a manner
that by answering them without adding the fullest explanations I should
only make my case worse.
A quarter of an hour passed, and I still sat staring stupidly at my
blank sheet of paper.
The soldiers stood grimly at attention, the officer leaned on his sword,
the stout man sat writing stolidly; no sound but the monotonous ticking
of the clock and the beating of my own heart broke the silence.
At last, seizing the pen, I began to write--not in answer to the
questions, but a short account of what had passed between Von Theyer and
myself, and an explanation of how I came to be in the company of Batori
Gabor.
It was rather a lame performance, its chief merit being to afford a
reason for Von Theyer's persecution; and when the official came to
witness my signature, I felt it would do me but little good.
Another week passed--a week of heart-wearing suspense--before I was
again called to attend the court.
A single glance at the faces of my judges extinguished the tiny spark of
hope which struggled to keep alive in my breast.
The president spoke in impressive tones, every word sounding distinctly
in the quiet room.
It was a long speech, but the whole of it might easily have been
compressed into a dozen sentences.
On the first two counts--refusing to surrender at Vilagos, and joining a
band of notorious outlaws--I was unanimously found guilty, and sentenced
to death.
After this, one would have thought the rest to be of little interest,
but the president gravely continued his remarks.
The unlawful killing of Ober was also considered proved, and on the
various other charges laid against me the court expressed no opinion.
"Therefore," concluded the president in a solemn voice, "it becomes my
painful duty to tell you, George Botskay. that on the second morning
from this you will be led out to execution in the market-place of this
town, that your death may act as a warning to all those who vainly hope
to oppose the imperial government."
My limbs trembled, the blood left my face, but, managing to control my
voice, I said calmly, "As a soldier, general, you will know a soldier's
feelings. I do not plead for mercy, but there is one favour I would
like to beg."
"Speak on, Herr Botskay. It may be in our power to grant it."
"Then I ask that you will at least permit me to die the death of a
soldier, and not that of a criminal."
"That," responded the old man, "is impossible, since you ceased to be a
soldier when you joined Batori Gabor. As a brigand you were captured,
as a brigand you must suffer;" and he waved his hand, directing that I
should be removed.
Back again in the lonely cell, my first feeling was one of relief that
the period of suspense had ended.
I could no longer be tortured by swift alternations of hopes and fears.
The worst had come, and with it a feeling of apathetic stupor.
But the next day, as I sat measuring off the hours by guess-work, a
revulsion of feeling set in.
Life was sweet, and all the throbbing vigour of my youth protested hotly
against this violent and disgraceful death.
Had it come when I charged with Goergei at the head of our cavalry, or
when beside my noble-hearted brother I scaled the ramparts of Buda, the
glow of patriotism, of devotion to my outraged country, would have
removed half its terrors; but now, in this guise!
Then my thoughts turned to the faithful Mecsey; to John Rakoczy, my true
and gallant friend, whom I should never again see; finally passing to
the Austrian maiden, whose fair face had never faded from my memory.
Would she believe the untruths which Von Theyer would but too surely
circulate?
I shuddered to think what terrible stories his fertile brain might
invent when I was no longer able to give them the lie.
Yet, through it all, I never quite lost hope that the beautiful girl
would keep her faith in my truth and honour; and this feeling sufficed
to raise me from the slough of misery into which I was sinking.
Night came at length, and the surly jailer brought my last supper, which
I forced myself to eat.
Then, after a solemn hour spent in prayer, I lay down on my hard bench
and slept peacefully as a child.
I had no means of telling the time, but the jailer apparently wakened me
earlier than usual, and I was led into a room where, instead of the
usual bread and water, a proper breakfast was laid. The apartment was
filled with soldiers; and when I had finished, two of them, stepping
forward, pinioned my arms tightly behind my back.
It was, as near as I could judge, about ten o'clock when the governor
entered, and, after a brief talk with one of the officers, ordered the
procession to be formed.
The air was keen, though the sun shone brightly overhead, as we
proceeded slowly to the courtyard, where the soldiers halted.
Two other detachments now joined us, and in the midst of each a prisoner
walked bareheaded.
They were both officers in Bern's army of Transylvania, so I did not
know them, but we exchanged glances of pity and goodwill.
One was an old man with scarred face and white, flowing beard, a veteran
Pole, who had spent his life in warfare against the enemies of his
country.
His fellow-victim was quite young, hardly older than myself; but he bore
himself as proudly as his comrade, gazing at the Austrians without a
tremor.
After a delay of ten minutes the arrangements were completed, and the
booming of a big gun announced to the townsfolk that the mournful
procession was about to issue from the gates of the fortress.
The soldiers closed up their ranks, the order was issued, and we set
out, my escort being the last of the three.
I tried hard to march with steady step and unfaltering countenance, but
it was hard work.
The fresh morning air, the bright October sun, the merry flight of birds
overhead, even the gaudy uniforms of the soldiers, spoke of life, and I
was going to lose it.
A lump rose in my throat as we passed through the gateway, but I
remembered I was a Magyar, and choked it down.
The pain and misery would soon be at an end, and the white-coats must
not think me a coward.
At minute intervals a gun was fired from the ramparts, and the
church-bells of the town tolled mournfully in response.
Crossing the one bridge which had not been destroyed during the war, we
entered the town proper.
I was astounded at the spectacle.
Two lines of soldiers with loaded rifles guarded the route to the
market-place, and kept back the crowds of people who stood on tiptoe and
craned their necks in eager anxiety to catch a last view of those about
to die.
Not the populace of the town alone had assembled, but the inhabitants of
all the surrounding districts had come in thousands to show respect to
the victims of Austrian cruelty.
The women sobbed as we went by, and looked at us with a yearning pity
that almost broke down my composure. The eyes of the men flashed with
fierce hate, and I thought it well that these brave Magyars had no
weapons.
Little children were held up in the arms of their fathers to see us, and
were that day taught a lesson which they would not forget in many years.
The nearer we approached our destination the denser the crowd became,
while the market-place itself was so packed that several persons died of
suffocation.
There, during the preceding night, an enormous wooden stage had been
erected, and in the centre was a tall gallows.
At the sight of this, I confess freely, my heart sank, and I feared that
my courage would desert me.
Now just at this moment I saw the face of the gallant Mecsey Sandor,
which acted on my nerves like a strong tonic.
The faithful fellow stood in the very foremost of the crowd, immediately
behind the soldiers, and opposite the steps by which the wide platform
was reached.
He was very mournful, yet the look in his eyes expressed something more
than sorrow.
"Courage, my sweet master, and God bless you!" cried he boldly, while I,
turning my head, smiled to show I understood.
"Courage, George Botskay!" exclaimed a second voice. "The Austrians
cannot kill your name, which will never die in Magyar-land."
The man who spoke was standing next Mecsey, and I stared in amazement at
beholding Dobozy.
What was he doing there?
If he were free, why not "John the Joyous?"
So great a longing suddenly seized me to look on the dear fellow's face
once more that I was unnerved, and only by a great effort kept myself
from stumbling.
Several other voices now cried, "God bless you, captain!" and I became
aware that many men of my old regiment were grouped around Mecsey Sandor
and Dobozy.
I smiled a last farewell at them, but my aching eyes sought in vain for
the noble figure of their colonel, and I concluded he was still a
prisoner, or dead.
Right round the ghastly structure a cordon of troops had been drawn, the
space inside being occupied by a regiment of hussars.
Even before meeting him I knew instinctively that Von Theyer was at
their head, and the knowledge gave me added courage.
He, at least, should never guess the tortures that I suffered.
I walked firmly, with head erect, gazing boldly at my bitter enemy. He
was on horseback, almost at the foot of the wooden steps which led to
the scaffold, so that but for my guard I should have brushed against him
in passing.
His eyes, full of cruel hatred, met mine; but I trust they detected no
sign of fear or blenching in my face.
I mounted the steps, and as the soldiers placed me beneath the gallows a
low, deep hum of pity rose from the crowd.
The two officers from Bern's army were stationed some distance away on
my right, and the governor, stepping to the front, began reading in a
loud, clear voice some official document.
It was a wonderful and impressive scene. The huge platform, with half a
dozen high officials and two firing parties; the bronzed hussars, in
brilliant uniforms, sitting their horses like statues; the ring of
infantry, with the sun shining on their bright, steel bayonets the
hushed crowd beyond, angry but impotent--furnished a spectacle that
those who beheld never forgot while life lasted.
The governor continued to read, and as he read a little bird with
cherry-coloured throat and gay plumage came and perched itself near me
on the frowning gallows.
I was watching the tiny fellow with interest when a cry from the crowd,
as of pain wrung from some animal, greeted the end of the governor's
speech.
The fatal moment was fast approaching, and I cast a farewell glance at
Mecsey and his companions.
The faithful fellow was in a state of terrible excitement, those around
him being hardly less moved.
Their faces alternated with hope and fear, grief, rage, despair,
anxiety--in short, all the passions that the human face is capable of
expressing. But, above all, it seemed to me they were waiting.
Waiting for what?
The idea which suddenly flashed across my mind made me tremble. Was it
possible that these great-hearted men were mad enough to dream of a
rescue?
From my heart I hoped and prayed this was not the secret of their
excitement.
The thing was utterly impossible, and could only lead to the shedding of
much innocent blood.
Life had never seemed so glorious a possession as it did just then, but
I would have forfeited it a hundred times rather than expose those
thousands of men and women to the horrors of an Austrian butchery.
Yet I was powerless to avert the evil, if, indeed, the trusty Mecsey had
planned such a mad project.
However, in a few brief moments now everything would be decided. My
fellow-victims were to suffer first, and, kneeling in the positions
appointed, they submitted to the bandaging of their eyes.
I kept my head steadfastly turned from the cruel scene, as did the vast
majority of the crowd.
The firing parties advanced.
"Long live Hungary!" cried the younger soldier.
"Long live Poland!" cried the veteran, the voices of both being equally
cool and collected.
"Fire!"
The report of the volleys rang out, and a groan burst from the
spectators.
From the victims themselves there came not a sound.
When next I looked round, the two bodies had been removed, and the
governor was beginning to read from a second paper. It was a recital of
my various crimes, and the sentence pronounced by the military tribunal.
Slowly, expressively, giving each word with due distinctness, he read
on, while I watched Mecsey's face, and prayed that the speech might come
to an end before mischief was done.
Yet, all unknown to me, the question of my life or death hung on the
length of time occupied by that pompous old man.
It could not be said I had abandoned hope, since, after the finding of
the court-martial, I had never entertained any; all my suspense now was
centered in the action of Mecsey and his companions.
That their presence, and the selection of their particular position, was
due to some settled purpose, there could be little doubt; and I felt
equally sure that every man of that desperate party was in possession of
hidden weapons.
What was the signal they waited for?
Suddenly, in the midst of the reading, there came a cry from the
outskirts of the crowd--a cry caught up and repeated by thousands of
voices, till the volume of sound rolled over the whole market-place.
Mecsey and his confederates threw their caps high into the air, and
yelled like madmen; the governor, deadly pale, stopped his reading and
called to Von Theyer, who hastily mounted the platform; the infantry,
waiting for orders, gripped their rifles with grim resolution; the
hussars bared their swords and prepared for the word to charge.
Yet the people made no attempt at a rescue; only in one place they
formed a lane along which a horseman galloped frantically amidst such a
wild outburst of cheering as Arad never knew before or since.
During those few moments I must have suffered more agony than falls to
the lot of many men in a lifetime.
Of what was happening I had not the slightest idea, only I saw Von
Theyer return to his men, and heard his short, quick words of command.
At the same time the infantry faced about and presented a steel-girt
barrier to the crowd.
Yet the cheering did not cease--it grew louder; and now we on the
platform could hear such words as "The Kaiser! Long live Francis Josef!
Long live the Kaiser!"
At the first sign of danger the soldiers on the platform surrounded me
in a body, and the executioner was already arranging the noose when the
horseman reached the line of infantry.
What he said I knew not, but those sturdy warriors opened their ranks.
He dashed through, and when in the open space Von Theyer would have
turned him back, he struck him from the saddle, at the same time
shouting out something in a loud tone.
Springing to the ground, he left his horse with heaving flanks and
spume-flaked nostrils, and scrambled up the wooden steps, crying aloud
and waving a large white envelope.
As one in a dream I watched him approach the governor and hand him the
mysterious missive.
Then he turned to me, and I forgot all about death, for the strange
messenger was "John the Joyous."
Never had the name fitted him more admirably. His cheeks were flushed
with happiness; his eyes bright and sparkling; every feature had part in
the joyous smile that overspread his handsome face.
I could not think or reason--in fact there was no necessity, for John
Rakoczy had come.
The crowd shouted lustily until the governor, waving the white envelope,
went to the edge of the platform.
Then the cheering ceased and all was silent save for the voice of the
governor as he read from a sheet of paper the free pardon of His Most
Gracious Majesty, Kaiser Francis Josef, to George Botskay, sometime
captain on the staff of General Arthur Goergei.
He added some further words, to which the people responded with a wild
cheer, and then began to disperse, while I stood dumfounded with the
rope yet round my neck.
The market-place emptied slowly; the infantry formed up in companies and
marched to the fortress; the hussars, headed by Von Theyer looking black
and scowling, trotted off; only the governor's personal escort remained.
Then the old man harshly told me I was at liberty; and he, too, went
away, leaving me with my chivalrous friend.
This startling swing back from the very brink of the grave left me weak
and dazed. I had hardly sufficient strength to thank the man who had
saved my life.
"Wait a bit," said he smilingly. "There will be plenty of time for all
that. We have many things to tell each other, but you must get back a
little strength first. Come, lean on me. Mecsey has a carriage ready,
and I am going to send you to Gyula."
"Aren't you coming?"
"In a day or two. There is a little business in Arad to be settled
first."
So greatly had my nerves been weakened by the shock that I did not guess
what the business was, and permitted him to lead me away without
protest.
At one of the inns Mecsey waited with a carriage, and many of the old
Honveds stood in front of the house.
Dobozy was there too, and the true-hearted kindness of my former
companions brought tears of gratitude to my eyes.
"The Joyous" wrapped me up comfortably, and giving Mecsey, who was to
ride inside, many injunctions, shook my hand in a parting grasp.
"Rouse yourself!" cried he. "Dobozy and I are coming in a few days, and
we don't want to be entertained by an invalid."
Dobozy added some lively badinage to cheer my spirits, the two waved
their hands in farewell, the coachman cracked his whip, and we were off
to the lonely homestead I had not visited during the last two years.