Banfy"s wife clung with blanched face to her husband"s arm, while he, leaning his elbows on the table said, not without annoyance; "I am a distant connection of the poor wretch. In fact, he married a relative of my wife. He was a long time in slavery to the Tartars, and the Turks, who are now angry with us, have undoubtedly set him free on condition that he should allow himself to be made prince. He must have lost his wits entirely."
Again the men laughed loudly.
"We will crown him at once," said Kemeny, sarcastically, throwing back his head.
"That has been done already," said Haller.
"Where? By whom?" questioned the good-natured Prince, with contracted brow.
"In Klein-Selyk, by the State Convention."
Kemeny indicated by a motion of the hand and uplifted eyebrow that he did not fully understand this reply.
"Who was present? Surely all the men of importance in the country are here with us."
"There were present Stephen Apafi, Nalaczy, Daczo and others, a couple of hundred Szekler n.o.bility."
"Well, we will count them up as soon as we are through with other affairs," said the Prince, contemptuously. "Give Gabriel Haller a chair."
"They are not waiting for us, but are already coming against us; they are in Scha.s.sburg now."
"I suppose they will drive us out,--Michael Apafi with his two hundred Szeklers," said Kemeny, laughing.
Wenzinger now arose and said in soldierly fashion; "Does your Highness wish me to have the army called together? we have eight thousand armed men. If it pleases your Highness, we will scatter these people so completely that there will be no two men left standing together."
"Keep quiet," replied Kemeny, who looked down with contempt upon the whole business. "Sit down and drink. Let them come nearer, why should we take the trouble to go to them? we can certainly take them, bag and baggage.--I am sorry, Dionysius Banfy, that this man is a connection of yours, but out of consideration for you I will see to it that he is not broken on the wheel; I"ll have him--stuffed."
This. .h.i.t of Kemeny"s was received with roars of laughter.
"Bring a gla.s.s for Gabriel Haller, we will go on with our wager. Play the rest of that interrupted music."
Again the music rang out. The gypsy band played a Czardas. The men clinked their gla.s.ses and sang to the music. The servants outside joined in. The emptied gla.s.ses flew against the wall; there was not one among them who could not have dashed his gla.s.s in a thousand pieces except Gabriel Haller, who had come last and was still sober, ashamed to smash the costly Venetian gla.s.s.
"Break it against the table so the pieces will fly," thundered the Prince at him, and Haller, in obedience to his Prince, struck the gla.s.s lightly against the table and snapped the stem, and then bowed with respectful humility before his master.
Madame Banfy sighed as she thought of her kinsfolk. Her husband, to prevent any one"s thinking that he was in the least concerned in the affair, jumped from his seat and amid the sounds of the Czardas invited the beautiful Madame Beldi to dance. The little lady was ready. Banfy grasped the beauty about her waist, held her firmly and whirled her around. The excited woman flew with the lightness of a fairy on the arm of her partner. With that, the rest of the men jumped from their places, seized other women for a dance, and soon the entire company was swept away in fantastic revelry, every one clapping, dancing and shouting. Banfy was hot-blooded and light-headed; he loved beautiful women, and now in addition there was the glow of the wine.
When his beautiful partner once more hung on his arm, her glowing cheeks came so near him that he suddenly so far forgot himself as to press the bewitching woman pa.s.sionately to his heart and imprint a hot kiss on her cheek. Madame Beldi cried out and pushed the bold man from her. Banfy, also startled at what he had done, cast a glance about him but everybody was so taken up with his own pleasure that, to all appearances, neither kiss nor cry had been noticed. However, Madame Beldi angrily left her partner, and when Banfy stammered out an apology, indicated to him that he should stay at a distance.
This kiss was to cost Banfy dear one of these days. n.o.body had noticed it except the man whom it most concerned,--the husband. Beldi"s eye had seen it. Let not anybody think that a husband who loves is not jealous. Even if he acts as if he had not seen, had not heard, he sees and hears and notices everything. He had indeed seen Banfy kiss his wife, although he acted as if he did not notice the confusion of his wife who, all excited, sought her husband. He took her hand and led her from the hall. Once outside he bade her make ready for a journey.
"Where are we going?" asked his wife, quivering with excitement.
"Home to Bodola."
Of all the guests Dionysius Banfy alone noticed that two had vanished from the hall.
CHAPTER V
CASTLE BODOLA
In a part of the country of upper Weissenburg, as soon as you have left the Pa.s.s of Boza or made a detour of the ravine in the footpath around the mountain heights, you catch sight of the valley of the Tatrang. On all sides are low mountains covered with light fog, and in the background the sky-piercing heights of the foothills of Capri, bright in the early autumnal snow. In the fog-wrapped valley are four or five hamlets with whitewashed houses, from which the smoke arises amid the green fruit trees. The little stream of Tatrang winds clear as crystal between the quiet villages, forming here and there waterfalls with snowy mist. The clouds hang so low over the valley as to shut out with their golden veil first one object and then another from the observer on the mountain-height. There is Hosszufalu with its long street; and the church of Trajzonfalu reflects the sunbeams from its painted metal roof. Tatrang is right on the bank of the stream, at this point crossed by a long wooden bridge; far in the distance appear dark and misty the walls of Kronstadt and the outline of the citadel, at that time still unharmed. Farther down in the valley are the scattered dwellings of the little village of Bodola, its church high on a hill; opposite the village stands a small castle with broad towers and black bastions with battlements; the western bastion is built on a steep rock. But it is only from afar that the castle looks gloomy; as you draw nearer you see that what appeared a dark green growth on the bastion is a garden of flowers. The great Gothic windows are decorated with sculpture and painted gla.s.s. Up the steep cliff is a well-kept, winding path, with mossy stone benches at every turn; at its summit is a parapet and the pointed turrets of the castle are painted red and topped with fantastic weather-vanes.
The road to Kronstadt through the Boza Pa.s.s leads to this little castle in a few hours, and at the very time when John Kemeny had abandoned himself utterly to pleasure in Hermanstadt, a long line of hors.e.m.e.n was moving out of the castle; there might have been two thousand Turkish riders, recognizable from afar by their red turbans and their snow-white caftans; with them were a few hundred Wallachian howitzers in charge of men in brown woolen cloaks and black turbans.
The way was so narrow here that the hors.e.m.e.n could ride only two by two, and those in the rear had hardly emerged from the mountain pa.s.s when the first riders were already in Tatrang. Their leader was a medium sized, sunburned man, with eyes like an eagle"s; there was a long scar across his forehead; the sharp upward turn of his moustache indicated an unusually hot temper, an impression confirmed by the short, crisp speech, the proud turn of the head, and the abrupt movements. Beyond the village he called a halt to await the rear; at the very end rumbled two baggage-wagons and a melon-shaped caleche, the entire baggage of the Turk. A child followed, whose serious expression and gleaming short sword seemed hardly appropriate to the full round face; he might have been twelve years old. Within the carriage, the curtains of which had been thrown wide open to give free play to the evening breeze, sat a young woman of possibly two and thirty, whose dress was partly Turkish, partly Christian; for she wore the loose silk trousers and short blue caftan of Turkish women, but had taken off her turban. Her face, contrary to Turkish custom, was unveiled, and she looked calmly out of the window at the country and the pa.s.sing peasants.
Beyond the village the Turkish leader marshaled his troops, evidently accustomed to some discipline. At the head of the left wing was the young boy; the right was led by a strong man.
"My brave men," said the Pasha to his troops, "you will encamp here.
Let every man keep his place beside his horse and not lay down his arms. Ferhad Aga with twelve men will go to the village and say to the justiciary most respectfully that he is to send four hundred-weight of bread, as much meat, and twice as much hay and oats, for which he will receive four asper the pound,--no more and no less."
The Pasha then turned to the Wallachians. "You dogs, do not think that we have come here to plunder. Do not stir from your places. If I find that a single goose has been stolen from the village, I will have your captains hung and you decimated."
Then he chose four hors.e.m.e.n from the company. "You will follow me. The others are to rest. We will continue our march to-night. In my absence, Feriz Bey is in command."
The small boy saluted. "As soon as Feriz Bey receives word from me to leave you, you will be in command of Ferhad Aga until my return."
With that the Pasha struck spurs to his horse and galloped off to Bodola with his escort of four men. Then the boy called Feriz Bey by the Pasha, rode forward with soldierly bearing and in the clearest, firmest tones gave order to dismount. His Arab steed, with foaming bit reared and plunged, but the little commandant went on with his orders as if he did not notice the mad leaps of his horse. Meantime, the Pasha continued his ride toward the castle of Bodola. The lord of the castle, Paul Beldi, had just returned the day before with his wife from the court of Kemeny, which he had left without parting words, and was standing before the dwelling when the Turkish riders came into the courtyard. In those days the relations of Transylvania and Turkey were such that a visit of this kind might take place without previous announcement. As soon as the Pasha caught sight of Beldi he jumped from his horse, hurried up the steps to him and presented himself briefly.
"I am Kutschuk Pasha. Since my road lay through this country I have come to speak with you, if you have time."
"Your servant," replied Beldi, giving his guest precedence as he showed him to the castle salon. It was a square room, with the walls painted in Oriental landscapes; in the s.p.a.ces between the windows were great mirrors in metal frames; the marble floor was covered over with large, bright rugs; on the walls above the windows were portraits and trophies of old weapons of strange shapes and settings; in the centre of the room was a large table of green marble, with claw feet, and here and there easy chairs upholstered in leather, with heavy carvings. Opposite the entrance a door led to the terrace from which was a wide view of the snow-covered mountains. The evening light streaming through the painted gla.s.s cast a bright reflection over the faces of the men as they entered.
"In what way can I serve you?" asked Beldi.
"You are well aware," replied Kutschuk, "that at present there is a great division in the country over the princely succession in Transylvania."
"That does not concern me and I do not intend to take sides with either party," answered Beldi, guardedly.
"I did not come here to ask you for help or advice in this affair. The question is to be settled by the sword. What has brought me to you is purely a family affair and concerns me and me only."
Beldi, in amazement, bade his guest be seated and said to him, "Speak."
"You may have heard that there was once here in Transylvania a Mademoiselle Kallay, who fell in love with a young Turk and became his wife; naturally, without the knowledge or consent of her parents."
"I do know about it. They used to say that the young Turk knew as well how to conquer a woman"s heart as a foe on the battlefield."
"Perhaps so. Conquests in war have meantime effaced the traces of love from his cheeks. As you see, my face is crossed this way and that with scars. For the man who married that woman stands before you."
Beldi looked at the Pasha with astonishment.
"I have loved this woman without ceasing and with adoration,"
continued the Pasha; "this may sound strange to you, coming from the lips of a Turk, but it is true. I have no other wife. She has borne me a son of whom I am proud. Now my affairs are in so critical a condition that I must either work wonders with the help of G.o.d, or fall in battle. You know that the religion of Mohammed sets a high value on death in battle, so that this causes me little anxiety; but I am thinking of my wife, who if she should lose me and my son would be placed in a most doubtful position. In Turkey, she would be exposed to persecution because she had remained a Christian; in Transylvania, because she had married a Mohammedan; there through my relatives and here through her own. For that reason I turn to you with a request. I have heard you spoken of as a man of honor and of your wife as a worthy woman. Receive my wife into your family. I have sufficient property for her so that she will be no burden to you in that respect; she needs only your protection. If you promise to grant me this request you can count on my friendship and grat.i.tude forever, the command of my sword and my property and, in case I survive, of my life."
Beldi grasped the Pasha by the hand. "Bring your wife," he said, in cordial tones, "my wife and I will receive her as a sister."
"Not as a sister, I beg of you," said Kutschuk, laughingly, "with us that is equivalent to enmity. So then, I may bring her?"