Читать книгу The Slaves of the Padishah - Mór Jókai - Страница 8

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The year was a few weeks older since we saw Tököly depart from Rumnik, after reading the three letters, and behold, Michael Teleki still lingered at Gyulafehervár, and had not gone with the Transylvanian forces to Déva.

He had been feeling ill for some days, and had not been able to leave his room. A slow fever tormented his limbs, his face had lost its colour, he was hardly able to hold himself up, and every joint ached whenever he moved. He had need of repose, but not a single moment could he have to himself, and just when he would have liked to have shown the door to every worry and bother, the Prince at one moment, and the Turkish Ambassador at another, were continually pressing their affairs upon him.

At that moment his crony Nalaczi was with him, standing at the window, while Teleki sat in an arm-chair. All his members were shaken by the ague, his breath was burning hot, his face was as pale as wax, and he could scarce keep his lips together.

By his chair stood his page—young Cserei—whilst huddled up in a corner on one side was a scarce visible figure which clung close to the wall with as miserable, shamefaced an expression as if it would have liked to crawl right into it and be hidden. What with the darkness and its own miserableness, we should scarce recognise this shape if Teleki did not chance to give it a name, railing at it, from time to time, as if it were a lifeless log, without even looking at it, for, in truth, his back was turned upon it.

"I tell you, Master Szénasi, you are an infinitely useless blockhead——"

"I humbly beg——"

"Don't beg anything. Here have I, worse luck, been entrusting you with a small commission, in order that you might impart some wholesome information to the people, and instead of that you go and fool them with all sorts of old wives' stories."

"Begging your Excellency's pardon, I thought——"

"Thought? What business had you to think? You thought, perhaps, you were doing me a service with your nonsense, eh?"

"Mr. Nalaczi said as much, your Excellency."

Mr. Nalaczi seemed to be sitting on thorns all this while.

"Now just see what a big fool you are," interrupted Teleki. "Mr. Nalaczi may have told you, for what I know, that it might be well for you to use your influence with the common people by mentioning before them the wonders which have recently taken place, and thereby encouraging them to be loyal and friendly to each other, but I am sure he did not tell you to manufacture wonders on your own account, and terrify the people by spreading abroad rumours of coming war."

"I thought——" Here he stopped short, the worthy man was quite incapable at that moment of completing his sentence.

"Thought! You thought, I suppose, that just as I was collecting armies, you would do me a great service by preaching war? So far as I am concerned, I should like to see every sword buried in the earth."

"Begging your Excellency's pardon——"

"Get out of my sight. Never let me see you again. In three days you must leave Transylvania, or else I'll send you out, and you won't thank me for that."

"May I humbly ask what I am to do if your Excellency withdraws your favour from me?" whined the fellow.

"You may do as you like. Go to Szathmár and become the lacquey of Baron Kopp, or the scribe of Master Kászonyi. I'm just going to write to them. I'll mention your name in my letter, and you can take it."

"And if they won't accept me?"

"Then you must tack on to someone else, anyhow you shan't starve. Only get out of my sight as quickly as possible."

The "magister" withdrew in fear and trembling, wiping his eyes with his pocket-handkerchief.

"Sir," said Nalaczi, when they were alone together, "this violence does harm."

"The only way with such fellows is to bully them whatever they do, for they are deceivers and traitors at heart, and would otherwise do you mischief. Kick and beat them, chivy them from pillar to post, and make them feel how wretched their lot is, if you don't want them to play off their tricks upon you."

"I don't see it in that light. This irritability will do you no good."

"On the contrary it keeps me up. If I had not always given vent to my feelings I should have been lying on a sick-bed long ago. Take these few thalers, go after that good-for-nothing, and tell him that I am very angry with him, and therefore he must try in future to deserve my confidence better, in which case I shall not forget him. Tell him to wait in the gate for the letter I am about to write, and when once he has it in his hand let him get out of Transylvania as speedily as he can. Remind him that I don't yet know about what happened in the square at Klausenberg, and if I did know I would have him flogged out of the realm; so let him look sharp about it."

Nalaczi laughed and went out.

Teleki sank back exhausted on his pillows, and made his page rub the back of his neck violently with a piece of flannel.

At that instant the Prince entered. His face was wrath, and all because of his sympathy. He began scolding Teleki on the very threshold.

"Why don't you lie down when I command you? Does it beseem a grown-up man like you to be as disobedient as a capricious child? Why don't you send for the doctor; why don't you be blooded?"

"There is nothing the matter with me, your Highness. It is only a little hæmorrhoidalis alteratio. I am used to it. It always plagues me at the approach of the equinoxes."

"Ai, ai, Michael Teleki, you don't get over me. You are very ill, I tell you. Your mental anxiety has brought about this physical trouble. Does it become a Christian man, I ask, to take on so because my little friend Flora cannot have one particular man out of fifteen wooers, and a fellow like Emeric, too—a mere dry stick of a man."

"I don't give it any particular importance."

"You are a bad Christian, I tell you, if you say that. You love neither God nor man; neither your family, nor me——"

"Sir!" said Teleki, in a supplicating voice.

"For if you did love us, you would spare yourself and lie down, and not get up again till you were quite well again."

"But if I lie down——"

"Yes, I know—other things will have a rest too. The bottom of the world isn't going to fall out, I suppose, because you keep your bed for a day or two. Come! look sharp! I will not go till I see you lying on your bed."

What could Teleki do but lie down at the express command of his Sovereign.

"And you won't get up again without my permission, mind," said the Prince, signalling to young Cserei, and addressing the remainder of his discourse to him. "And you, young man, take care that your master does not leave his bed, do you hear? I command it, and, till he is quite well, don't let him do any hard work, whether it be reading, writing, or dictation. You have my authorisation to prevent it, and you must rigorously do your duty. You will also allow nobody to enter this room, except the doctor and the members of the family. Now, mind what I say! As for you, Master Teleki, you will wrap yourself well up and get yourself well rubbed all over the body with a woollen cloth, clap a mustard poultice on your neck and keep it there as long as you can bear it, and towards evening have a hot bath, with salt and bran in it; and if you won't have a vein opened put six leeches on your temples, and the doctor will tell you what else to do. And in any case don't fail to take some of these pilulæ de cynoglosso. Their effect is infallible." Whereupon the Prince pressed into Teleki's hand a box full of those harmless medicaments which, under the name of dog's-tongue pills, were then the vogue in all domestic repositories.

"All will be well, your Highness."

"Let us hope so! Towards evening I will come and see you again."

And then the Prince withdrew with an air of satisfaction, thinking that he had given the fellow a good frightening.

Scarce had he closed the door behind him than Teleki beckoned to Cserei to bring him the letters which had just arrived.

The page regarded him dubiously. "The Prince forbade me to do so," he observed conscientiously.

"The Prince loves to have his joke," returned the counsellor. "I like my joke, too, when I've time for it. Break open those letters and read them to me."

"But what will the Prince say?"

"It is I who command you, my son, not the Prince. Read them, I say, and don't mind if you hear me groan."

Cserei looked at the seal of one of the letters and durst not break it open.

"Your Excellency, that is a secretum sigillum."

"Break it open like a man, I say. Such secrets are not dangerous to you; you are a child to be afraid of such things."

Cserei opened the letter, and glancing at the signature, stammered in a scarce audible voice: "Leopoldus."5

5 i.e. the Emperor Leopold.

Teleki, resting on his elbows, listened attentively.

"Your Highness and my well-disposed Friend—I have heard from Baron Mendenzi Kopp and worthy Master Kászonyi of your Excellency's good dispositions towards me and Christendom, and your readiness to help in the present disturbances. All my own efforts will be directed to the preservation of the rights and liberties of the Christian Princes, so that there may not be the slightest occasion that the Turkish War should extend, and that the whole power of the Ottoman Empire should be hurled on me and my dominions. But I hope that the fury of these barbarians, by the combination of the foreign kings and princes, shall, with God's assistance, be so opposed and thwarted as to make them turn back from the league of the combined faithful hosts. Meanwhile, I assure your Excellency and the Estates of Transylvania of my protection, so long as you continue well-disposed towards me, and I entrust the maintenance of this good understanding between us to Messrs. the illustrious Baron Kopp and the Honourable Mr. Kászonyi. Wishing your Excellency good health and all manner of good fortune, etc., etc."

Cserei looked at the doors and windows in terror, for fear someone might be listening.

"And now let us read the second letter."

Cserei's top-knot regularly began to sweat when he recognised at the bottom of the opened letter the signature of the Grand Vizier, who thus wrote to the Prince:

"Most illustrious Prince, hearty love and greeting!—We would inform thee of our grace and favour that we have sent a part of our army to the assistance of the imprisoned heroes in our most mighty master the Sultan's fortress of Nyitra, where the faithless foe are besieging them. It is therefore necessary that thou with thy whole host and all the necessary muniments of war should hasten thither without loss of time, so as to unite both in heart and deed with our warriors, who are on their way against the enemy. We believe that by the grace of God thou wilt be ready to render useful service to the mighty Sultan, and so be entitled to participate in his favour and liberality. We, moreover, after the end of the solemn feast days which we are wont to keep after our fasts are over, will follow our advance guards with our countless hosts, and thou meanwhile must manfully take this business in hand, so that thy loyalty may shine the more gloriously in martial deeds. Peace be to those who are in the obedience of God."

Poor Cserei, when he had read this letter through, had a worse fit of ague than his master. He anxiously watched the face of the statesman, but the only thing visible in his features was bodily suffering. There was no sign of mental disturbance.

The blood flew to his face, the veins were throbbing visibly in his temples.

"Come hither, my son," he said in a scarcely audible voice; "bring me a glass of water, put into it as much rhubarb powder as would go on the edge of a knife, and give it me to drink."

Cserei fancied that the sick Premier had not mastered the contents of the letter because of a fresh access of fever, and, having prepared the rhubarb water in a few moments, gave it him to drink, whereupon Teleki crouched down beneath his coverlet. He could have done nothing better, for now the ague burst forth again, so that he regularly shivered beneath its attack. Cserei wanted to run for a doctor.

"Whither are you going?" asked Teleki. "Fetch ink and parchment, and write."

The lad obeyed his command marvelling.

"Bring hither the round table and sit down beside it. Write what I tell you."

The pen shook in the lad's hand, and he kept dipping it into the sand instead of into the ink.

Teleki, in a broken voice, dictated a letter as well as the fever would allow him.