Читать книгу 'Neath the Hoof of the Tartar; Or, The Scourge of God - báró Miklós Jósika - Страница 4

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"Well, Talabor, my boy, what is it? Anything amiss?" asked Master Peter, as the page entered the hall, where he and his daughter were at breakfast.

It was a bare, barn-like apartment, but the plates and dishes were of silver.

"Nothing amiss, sir," was the answer, "only a guest has just arrived, who would like to pay his respects, but—he is on foot!"

It was this last circumstance, evidently, which was perplexing Talabor.

"A guest?—on foot?" repeated Master Peter, as if he too were puzzled.

"Yes, sir; Abbot Roger, he calls himself, and says you know him!"

"What! good Father Roger! Know him? Of course I do!" cried Peter, springing from his chair. "Where is he? Why didn't you bring him in at once? I am not his Grace of Esztergom to keep a good man like him waiting in the entry!"

"The servants are just brushing the dust off him, sir," replied the page, "and he wants to wash his feet, but he will be ready to wait upon you directly, sir, if you please!"

"By all means! but he is no 'Abbot,' Talabor; he is private chaplain to Master Stephen, my brother!"

Talabor had not long been in Master Peter's service, and knew no more of Master Stephen than he did of Father Roger, so he said nothing and left the room with a bow.

"Blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus, Father Roger!" cried Master Peter, hurrying forward to meet his guest, as he entered the dining-hall.

"For ever and ever!" responded the Father, while Dora raised his hand to her lips, delighted to see her old friend again.

"But how is this, Father Roger?" Peter asked in high good humour, after some inquiry as to his brother's welfare; "how is this? Talabor, deák announced you as 'Abbot.' What is the meaning of it?"

"Quite true, sir! Thanks to his Holiness and the King, I have been 'Abbot' the last month or two; but just now I am on my way to Pest by command of his Majesty."

"What! an abbot travel in this fashion, on foot! Why, our abbots make as much show as the magnates, some of them. Too modest, too modest, Father! Besides, you'll never get there! Is the King's business urgent?"

"Hardly that, I think; though—but, after all, why prophesy evil before one must!"

"Prophesy evil?" repeated Dora.

"Prophecies are in the hands of the Lord!" interposed her father quickly. "Good or bad, it rests with Him whether they shall be fulfilled. So, Father Roger, let us have it, whatever it is."

"The King's commands were that I should be at Pest by the end of the month," answered Roger, "so I shall be in time, even if I do travel somewhat slowly. As for the prophesying—without any gift of prophecy I can tell you so much as this, that something is coming! True, it is far off as yet, but to be forewarned is to be forearmed, and I fancy the King is one who likes to look well ahead."

"But what is it, Father Roger? do tell us!" cried Dora anxiously.

"Nothing but rumours so far, dear child, but they are serious, and it behoves us to be on our guard."

"Oktai and his brethren, eh?" said Master Peter, with some scorn. "Oh, those Tartars! The Tartars are coming! the Tartars are coming! Why, they have been coming for years! When did we first hear that cry? I declare I can't remember," and he laughed.

"I am afraid it is no laughing matter, though," said Father Roger. "I daresay you have not forgotten Brother Julian, who returned home only two or three years ago."

But here Dora interposed. She remembered Father Roger telling her a story of the Dominican brothers, who had gone to try and find the "old home" of the Magyars and convert to Christianity those who had stayed behind, and she wanted to hear it again, if her father did not mind.

Father Roger accordingly told how, of the first four brothers, only one had returned home, and he had died soon after, but not before he had described how, while travelling as a merchant, he had fallen in with men who spoke Hungarian and told him where their home, "Ugria," was to be found.[2] Four more brothers had been despatched on the same quest by King Béla, who was desirous of increasing the population of his country, and particularly wished to secure "kinsmen" if he could. Two only of the brothers persevered through the many perils and privations which beset their way. One of these died, and Julian, the survivor, entering the service of a wealthy Mohammedan, travelled with him to a land of many rich towns, densely populated.[3] Here he met a woman who had actually come from the "old home," and still farther north he had found the "brothers of the Magyars," who could understand him and whom he could understand.

[2] Ugria extended from the North Sea to the rivers Kama, Irtisch, and Tobol, west and east of the Ural Mountains. The Ugrians had come in more ancient times from the high lands of the Altai Mountains. Hungarian was still spoken in Ugria, then called Juharia, as late as the beginning of the sixteenth century.

[3] Great Bulgaria, lying on both sides of the Volga, at its junction with the Kama.

They were, of course, heathen, but not idolaters; they were nomads, wandering from place to place, living on flesh and mare's milk, and knowing nothing of agriculture. They were greatly interested in all that Julian told them, for they knew from old traditions that some of their race had migrated westwards.

But at the time of his visit they were much perturbed by news brought to them by their neighbours on the east. These were Tartar, or Turkish, tribes, who, having several times attacked them and been repulsed, had finally entered into an alliance with them. A messenger from the Tartar Khan had just arrived to announce, not only that the Tartar tribes were themselves on the move and but five days' journey away, but that they were moving to escape from a "thick-headed" race, numerous as the sands of the sea which was behind them, on their very heels, and threatening to overwhelm all the kingdoms of the world, as it had already overwhelmed great part of Asia.

Brother Julian hastened home to report his discoveries and warn his country, which he had reached between two and three years before our story begins; but nothing more had come of his pilgrimage, no more had been heard of the "Magyar[4] brothers."

[4] Europeans called them Ugrians-Hungarians, but they called themselves "Magyars"—"children of the land," as some think to be the meaning of the word.

"But why, Father Roger?" asked Dora, with wide eyes.

"Because the 'thick-headed people' have not only overrun nearly the whole of Central Asia as far as Pekin, covering it with ruins and reducing it to a desert, but have streamed westward like a flood, a torrent, and have submerged nearly the whole of Eastern Europe."

"Then they are not Tartars?"

"No, Mongolians[5]; but they have swallowed up many Tartar tribes and have forced them to join their host. Tartars we have known before, but Mongols are new to us, so most people keep to the name familiar to them, which seems appropriate too—Tátars, Tartari, you know, denizens of Tartarus, the Inferno, as we Italians call it; and their deeds are 'infernal' enough, Heaven knows!"

[5] Temudschin was but thirteen when he became chief (in A. D. 1175) of one horde, consisting of thirty to forty thousand families. After some vicissitudes, he entered upon a career of conquest, and, between 1204 and 1206, he summoned the chiefs of all the hordes and tribes who owned his sway to an assembly, at which he caused it to be proclaimed that "Heaven had decreed to him the title of 'Dschingiz' (Highest), for he was to be ruler of the whole world." From this time he was known as Dschingiz, or Zenghiz Khan.

"And are they coming, really?"

"As to whether they will come here, God alone knows; but Oktai, son of Dschingiz, who is now chief Khan, has sent a vast host westward, and, as I said, they have overrun great part of Russia; it is reported that they have burnt Moscow."

"Come, come, Father," interrupted Peter, who had been growing more and more restless, "you are not going to compare us Magyars with the Russians, I hope, or with the Chinese and Indians either. If they show their ugly dog's-heads here, they will find us more than a match for such a rabble."

"I hope so!" said Father Roger. But he spoke gravely, and added, "You have heard, of course, of the Cumani, Kunok, you call them, I think."

"To be sure! Peaceable enough when they are let alone, but brave, splendid fellows when they are attacked, as Oktai has found, for I know they have twice defeated him," said Master Peter triumphantly.

"Yes, there was no want of valour on their part; but you know the proverb: 'Geese may be the death of swine, if only there be enough of them!' And so, according to the last accounts, the brave King has been entirely overwhelmed by Oktai's myriads, and he, with 40,000 families of Kunok, are now in the Moldavian mountains on the very borders of Erdély" (Transylvania).

"Ah, indeed," said Master Peter, a little more gravely, "that I had not heard! but if it is true, I must tell you that my chief object would be to prevent the report from spreading and being exaggerated. If it does, the whole country will be in a state of commotion, and all for nothing! There is hardly any nation which needs peace more than ours does, and we have quite enough to do with sweeping before our own door, without going and mixing ourselves up in other people's quarrels."

But Father Roger went on to say that the rumour had spread already, and that was why the King was wishing to call his nobles, and, in fact, the whole nation, together to take measures of defence in good time.

"Defence!" cried Peter; "defence against whom? Why, we have no enemies on any of our borders, unless you mean the Kunok, and they are far enough off at present; besides, we don't look on them as foes. It is always the way, Father Roger! always the way! We go conjuring up spectres! and though I am his Majesty's loyal and devoted subject, I may say here, just between ourselves, that I do think him too quick to take alarm."

"You think so, sir?" returned the Abbot; "well, of course, it is a mere opinion, but to my mind the King is not far wrong."

And then the good Father reminded his host that Oktai had already overthrown the Russians, great numbers of whom had been forced to join his army; and now that he had driven out the Kunok was it to be supposed that he would stop short? Dschingiz Khan, his father, had been a conqueror; conquest was his sole object in life, and he would have conquered the whole world if he had lived. His sons, especially Oktai, took after him; they, too, considered themselves destined to conquer the world, and now that Kuthen had shown him the way into Transylvania he would be forcing a passage across the frontier before they knew where they were. His rapidity was something marvellous, unheard of!

Again Master Peter only laughed. Where was the use of alarming the country? and would not a call to arms look as if they were afraid, and actually tempt the Mongols to come and attack them?

Father Roger shook his head, as he replied in Latin:

"If you wish for peace, prepare for war, as the old Romans used to say, and it is wise not to despise your foe."

The two went on arguing. Master Peter, like many another noble in those days, would not see danger. Though valiant enough, he was always an easy-going man, and, again like many another, he was quite confident that Hungary would be able to beat any enemy who might come against her, without worrying herself beforehand. Father Roger did not know the Hungarians, though he had lived so long among them!

"Well, well," he concluded, "you go to Pest, Mr. Abbot; but think it well over by the way, and when you see the King, you tell him plainly that Peter Szirmay advises his Majesty not to give the alarm before it is necessary."

Roger shook his head but said nothing. Italian though he was, he understood the Hungarian nobility very well. He knew how they disliked being turned out of their ordinary course; but he knew too that once roused, they would not hesitate to confront any enemy who threatened them, and that though they might be hot-headed, foolhardy, over-confident, they were certainly not cowards!

"Well," thought the Abbot, "you are no wiser, I am afraid, than others; but when the King does succeed in routing you out of your old fastness and getting you down into the plain, you will give as good an account of yourself as the rest!"

Master Peter was glad to drop the subject, and to feel that there was at all events no immediate prospect of his being disturbed; yet he was so far an exception to the majority of his fellow-nobles that he determined to ascertain the truth about these rumours, and, if necessary, not to delay placing himself and his daughter beyond the reach of danger.

Father Roger's gravity had impressed Dora much, but she was young, and she had such entire confidence in her father, that she could not feel any actual anxiety.

"What do you think, Father Roger?" she said presently, "if Oktai Khan really should want to fight us, about how long would it take him to get here?"

"That no one can say, dear child," answered the Italian. "He might reach the frontier in three years, or it might be in two, or—it might be in one!"

"In one year!" Dora repeated in a startled tone.

"It is impossible to say for certain, my dear. It all depends upon how long our neighbours can keep back the flood. One thing is certain, that, as they retreat in our direction, they will draw the enemy after them, and what is more, unless we are wise and prudent we may make enemies of the fugitives themselves; that is if we give them reason to suppose us not strong enough, or not trustworthy enough, to be their friends. Well, God is good, and we must hope that the danger will be averted."

"Come, come, Father Roger," said Master Peter, "that is enough, that's enough! Let us eat, drink, and sleep upon it, and time will show! There is not the least reason for worrying at present at all events, and if this disorderly crew does pour across our frontiers at last, well, we shall be there to meet them! And it won't be the first time that we have done such a thing."

And then, by way of entertaining his guest, he proposed to take him all over the house, stables, and courtyard.

Master Peter was not wealthy as his brother Stephen was, but for all that he was sufficiently well off. Stephen, the younger brother, had had a large fortune with his wife; Peter, a much smaller one with his. The family mansion, or castle,[6] belonged equally to both; and, being both widowers, and much devoted to one another, they had agreed to share it, and had done so most amicably for several years.

[6] Any country house was a castle, or château, as the French would say.

Without being covetous, Stephen had a warm appreciation of this world's goods; and of all the forty male members of the Szirmay family living at this time, he was certainly the most wealthy. He was devoted to his children, and gave them the best education possible at the time of which we are speaking, the first half of the thirteenth century. His son, Akos, now one of the King's pages, had learnt to read and write; he had, too, a certain knowledge of Latin, and sometimes in conversation he would use a Latin word or two, with Hungarian terminations. In fact, he knew somewhat more than most of his class, and, needless to say, he was a good horseman and a good marksman, and well-skilled in the use of arms and in all manly exercises.

Stephen's daughter and niece, Jolánta and Dora, were as good scholars as his son; and all three owed their secular as well as religious knowledge to Father Roger, in later years the famous author of the "Carmen Miserabile," and already known as one of the most cultivated men of the day. He was making his home with the Szirmays, and acting as chaplain, merely for the time being; and Stephen was glad to secure his services for the children, who loved the gentle Father, as all did who came in contact with him.

Learning was held in such high honour in Hungary in these days, that many a man coveted, and had accorded to him, the title of "Magister"—Master—(borne by the King's Notary and Chancellor) if he had but a little more scholarship than his neighbours, though that often of the slenderest description, and sometimes but few degrees removed from ignorance itself. A man such as Roger was not likely therefore to be overlooked by a King such as Béla; and his advancement was certain to come in time, notwithstanding the fact that he was an Italian.

It was when Dora was about eighteen that her father had resolved to go and live on his own property, in one of the northernmost counties of Hungary.

Now Peter had never been a good landlord; from his youth up his pursuits and interests had not been such as to make him take pleasure in agriculture. Accounts and calculations were not at all in his way either, and accordingly, no one was more imposed upon and plundered by his stewards than himself. He was generous in everything, open-handed, a true gentleman, delighted to help or oblige anyone, and much more thoughtlessly profuse than many who were far richer than himself.

The dwelling-house on that one of his estates to which he had decided to go, was, it is hardly needful to say, very much out of repair, almost a ruin in fact. It had never been handsome, being, in truth, but a great shapeless barn, or store-house, which consisted merely of a ground floor nearly as broad as it was long. The original building had been of stone, built in the shape of a tent, and, of course, open to the roof; for ceilings, except in churches, were long looked upon as luxuries.

The first inhabitants had slept and cooked, lived and died, all in this one great hall, or barn; and their successors, as they found more space needed, had made many additions, each with its own separate roof of split fir-poles, straw, or reeds. By degrees the original building had been surrounded by a whole colony of such roofs, with broad wooden troughs between them to carry off the rain water. Most of these additions had open roofs, and were as much like barns as the first; but some were covered in with great shapeless beams; and in a few there were even fireplaces, built up of logs thickly coated with plaster.

Various alterations and improvements had been made before Master Peter's arrival, the most important of which was that the openings in the walls which had hitherto done duty as windows, had been filled in with bladder-skin, and provided with wooden lattices. The floors were not boarded, but the earth had been carefully levelled, and was concealed by coarse reed-mats, while the walls had been plastered and whitened.

Altogether, the place was not uncomfortable, according to the ideas of the time, and Dora was not at all disgusted with its appearance, even coming from her uncle's house, where she was accustomed to a good deal of splendour of a certain kind.

Hungarians, even in those days, could make a splendid appearance upon occasion, as they did at the King's wedding, when all the guests wore scarlet, richly embroidered with gold. But their chief luxuries at home took the form of such articles as could be easily converted into money in case of need.

They had, for instance, plates and dishes of gold and silver, precious stones, court-dresses, not embroidered and braided in the present fashion, but adorned with pearls and stones of great value, as well as with plates of beaten gold and silver. Master Peter's great dining-hall contained many valuables of this description. Huge, much-carved oak chests were ranged along the bare walls, some open, some closed, these latter being laden with silver plates and dishes, gold and silver cups, tankards and numberless other articles required at table. Here and there, the statue of a saint, a piece of Grecian or Roman armour, and various antique curiosities were to be seen.

Seats had not been forgotten, and the high-backed chairs and broad benches were supplied with comfortable cushions of bright colours. Similar gay cushions were in use throughout that part of the house inhabited by Peter and his daughter; and whatever deficiencies there were, everything at least was now in good order and scrupulously clean.

As for Dora's own room, her father had done all that he could think of to make it pleasant and comfortable; and though many a village maiden in these days would look on it with disdain, Dora was well satisfied. There were even a few pictures on the bare white walls, though of course they were not in oil; but the special luxury of her little apartment was that the window was filled with horn, which was almost as transparent as glass, and was, moreover, decorated with flowers and designs, painted in bright colours.

Window glass was not unknown at this date, but it was too precious to be commonly used, and was reserved for churches and the palaces of kings and magnates. Bladders and thin skins were in ordinary use, or, where people were very wealthy, plates of horn; but there were plenty of gentlemen's houses in which the inhabitants had no light at all in winter but such as came from the great open hearths and fireplaces, for the windows were entirely closed up with reeds or rush mats.

One of the additions made to the original building had been what was called a "far-view" or "pigeon tower," much higher than the house itself, and the top of which could not be reached without the help of a ladder. This tower, which was more like a misshapen obelisk in shape, was roofed in with rough boards. In the lower storey there was a good-sized room, with a door opening from it into the large hall. It contained a wooden, four-post bedstead, clean and warm, and a small table; and all along the walls were clothes-pegs and shelves, such necessaries as we call "furniture" being very uncommon in the days we are speaking of. Dora's chests had been placed here, and served the purpose of seats, and there were also a few chairs, a praying-desk, and a few other little things. The walls were covered with thick stuff hangings, and the lower part of them was also protected by coarse grey frieze to keep out the cold and damp. This was Dora's own room.

Like all gentlemen of the time, even if they were reduced in means, Peter had a considerable train of servants, and these were lodged in the very airy, barn-like buildings already mentioned.

The courtyard was enclosed by a wall, high and massive, provided with loopholes, parapet, bastions, and breastwork; and the great gate, which had not yet been many weeks in its place, was so heavy that it was as much as four men could do to open and close it.

Master Peter had been anxious to have his horses as well lodged as they had been at his brother's; but, after all, the stables, which were just opposite the house, were not such as horses in these days would consider stables at all. They were, in fact, mere sheds with open sides, such as are now put up to shelter the wild horses of the plains.

When all this was done there still remained the digging of a broad, deep ditch or moat, in which the master himself and all his servants took part, assisted by some of the neighbouring peasants; and in about three months' time all was finished, and the curious assemblage of irregular buildings was more or less fortified, and capable of being defended if attacked by any wandering band of brigands.

It merely remains to add that Master Peter's castle stood in a contracted highland valley, and was surrounded by pine-woods and mountains. Behind it was the village, of which some few straggling cottages, or rather huts, had wandered away beyond it into the woods. The inhabitants were not Hungarians, except in so far as that they lived in Hungary; they were not Magyars, that is, but Slovacks, remnants of the great Moravian kingdom, who had retired, or been driven, into the mountains, when the Magyars occupied the land. The Magyars loved the green plains, the lakes—full of fish, and frequented by innumerable wild fowl—to which they had been accustomed in Asia; the Slovacks, whether from choice or necessity, loved the mountains.

These latter were an industrious, honest people, no trouble to anyone, and able to make a living in spite of the hard climate. They had suffered in more ways than one by the absence of the family; for the gentry at the great house had as a rule been good to them; and when they were away, or coming but seldom, and then only for sport with the bears, boars, and wolves which abounded, the poor people were treated with contempt and tyranny by those in charge of the property. They no doubt were glad when Master Peter came to live among them, and as for their landlord, time had passed pleasantly enough with him in spite of his being so far out of the world.

What with looking after the estate, in his own fashion, hunting, riding, sometimes going on a visit or having friends to stay, he had found enough to occupy him; but being a hospitable soul, he was always delighted to welcome the rare guests whom chance brought into the neighbourhood, and considered that he had a right to keep them three days—if they could be induced to stay longer, so much the better for him!

As for companionship, besides Dora, who could ride and shoot too, as well as any of her contemporaries, he had Talabor the page, who had come to him a pale, delicate-looking youth, but had gained so much in health and strength since he had been in service that his master often pitied him for not having parents better able to advance his prospects in life. They were gentry, originally "noble," as every free-born Magyar was, but they were poor gentry, and had been glad to place their son with Master Peter to complete his education, as was the custom of the time. The great nobles sent their sons to the King's court to be instructed in all manly and courtly accomplishments; the lower nobility and poor gentlefolk sent theirs to the great nobles, who often had in their households several pages. These occupied a position as much above that of the servants as beneath that of the "family," though they themselves were addressed as "servant," until they were thought worthy the title of "deák," which, though meaning literally "Latinist," answered pretty much to "clerk" or "scholar," and implied the possession of some little education.

Master Peter was so well satisfied with Talabor that he now always addressed him as "clerk" in the presence of strangers. He was growing indeed quite fond of him, and was pleased to see how much he had gained in strength and good looks, and how well able he was to take part in all the various forms of exercise, the long hunting excursions, the feats of arms, to which he was himself devoted.