CHAPTER XXIII.COUNT BEULA DISLIKES HANGING.Batori Gabor stood at the door of the inner room, and with the instinctive courtesy of the Magyar bade me welcome.This famous brigand, who for years had lived an outlaw's life, was tall and strongly built, with massive limbs and deep, capacious chest. His face was bronzed and rugged; his black hair hung in curls over his shoulders; his eyes were dark, fiery, and searching.He had laid aside his steel cuirass; but a brace of pistols peeped from his richly-ornamented girdle, and I doubted not they were both loaded."The Austrians overload me with favours," he exclaimed laughingly. "You are the second guest I am indebted to them for.--Count, I think you said Captain Botskay was an acquaintance of yours?"Hitherto I had not noticed that Batori Gabor had a companion in the room; now I saw a man in military uniform sitting at the table.At the outlaw's words he rose, and, turning toward me, showed the blue eyes and handsome, cynical features of Count Beula."This is a surprise, count," I said coldly. "I thought a clever man like yourself would by now be over the border with Kossuth.""How strange!" he answered lightly. "I concluded you had found refuge with Görgei's Russian friends.""Yet you are both with Batori Gabor," broke in the brigand cheerfully; "which is stranger still, since a month ago either of you would have had him shot like a dog.""Not I, my dear Gabor," murmured Beula sweetly. "I appreciate your courage too much.""And my knowledge of the country," added Gabor slyly."Well, yes. I think that may be turned to very good account, till Haynau has grown tired of his butcher's knife.""Which will not be soon. We are, however, keeping Captain Botskay from his supper--an unpardonable offence."Opening the door, he ordered an extra knife and fork. Then he invited me to sit, saying, "The table's rather crowded, captain; but we have all our courses laid at once. It isn't a banquet, but you'll find it better than black bread and bacon. Help yourself. I can recommend the salmon, because one of my fellows caught it this evening. I fancy the veal has done a breadth or two of ploughing in its time; but the chicken's tender."The outlaw certainly proved a most attentive and courteous host, and enlivened the meal by relating some of the most humorous and inoffensive of his adventures.During the war he had turned patriot, and had really done the enemy a great deal of mischief by cutting off convoys and intercepting mounted messengers.After supper he went to give his orders for the night; and I, not caring to remain alone with Count Beula, borrowed a lantern, and strolled out to the shed which served as a stable.There were nine or ten horses in the place, and I noticed that saddles and bridles were all hung so that they might readily be got at.My own animal had received an ample allowance of food, and, after a night's rest, would, I reckoned, be in capital trim.I might have stayed longer to get a better look at the robbers' horses, but the big dog sniffed so longingly at my legs that I thought it best to remove temptation from his path.Batori Gabor returned at the same time, and one of the band brought in some wine of a quality rarely found outside a nobleman's house."Been to look at your horse, captain?" he asked. "Sensible that, seeing you may have to trust your life to its speed.--Well, count, I think we may reckon on a quiet night. Andras has returned, and says the Austrians are sound asleep."I should feel easier if we were twenty miles farther on," answered the count."So should I, for that matter; but the horses were bound to have a long rest. Meanwhile we may as well make ourselves comfortable.--Captain Botskay, a glass of wine? By the way, you have not yet told us how you come to be in this part of the country. I should fancy this a very unhealthy spot for persons of your habits of life," and he laughed at his little joke quite pleasantly."The tale will not take long in telling," I said. "The general sent me to Nagy Sándor at Debreczin, where I had a nasty knock which laid me up for several days. Then I followed the army, arriving at Vilagos just in time to see the surrender.""But after that?""I started for Nagy Kikinda, where they say the 9th Honveds have been taken.""Looking for Rakoczy?" asked the count, and I nodded."You wouldn't guess what a hero our friend is," remarked the count to Batori Gabor. "He is actually risking his life on the chance of finding out what has become of John Rakoczy, colonel of the 9th Honveds.""Then you're a very gallant fellow, Captain Botskay," said the outlaw; "though I must stop you from playing such a mad prank. Do you know that every road in your path is barred by Austrian troops? You cannot possibly get past them; and if you could, the journey would be useless.""Still, I intend trying."Batori Gabor shrugged his shoulders. The count laughed in the sneering manner which always made me anxious to pitch him out of the window."You must be fonder of a hempen rope than I," he said; "but perhaps your name isn't on the proscribed list?""I don't know.""Well, mine is.""And mine," laughed Gabor. "It's been there for years. It doesn't hurt me in the least. I look on it as an honour.""Every man to his taste," said the count. "I have no fancy to die in a hempen collar. I am no coward, but the thought of being hanged like a dog by these Austrian butchers puts me in a bath of perspiration.""You came pretty near it yesterday."The count shuddered."Don't," said he; "it gives me an ague fit to think of it."I pointed out that he was probably alarming himself without reason, as the Austrians were not likely to do more than put him in prison for a few months.Batori shook his head."You're wrong there, captain," cried he. "The count and I row in the same boat, and capture means death. We are to be strung up to the nearest tree or beam capable of bearing our weight by those who catch us. The very notion of it puts the count into a flutter."Now I had once thought Count Beula a coward, and had been obliged to own my mistake; yet at this talk of Austrian vengeance his face became white, and he trembled like a leaf. He tried to laugh it off, saying that Görgei was in the right of it, surrendering to the Russians."He would have done a sharper thing by slipping into Turkey with Kossuth and his friends," I made answer."There you are," exclaimed our bandit friend. "That's what lost the war before it began. Two sets of leaders, and two objects to fight for; why, it's worse than having two captains over one band. However, it's done now, and not worth quarrelling about. We have to save our heads--a far more important matter.""I am going to look for Colonel Rakoczy in the morning.""Are you? Well, excuse the plain speech, captain--you're a fool. The exercise of my profession has made me acquainted with this part of the country, and even I could not venture a mile southward without being captured. The Austrians are stopping every pass and blocking every hole; they think Kossuth is still in the district. Why, but for me, our friend here would at this very moment be swinging in the wind, and, at the best, we half foundered our horses in getting him away. However, they are recovering, and to-morrow night will see us safe. You'd better join us, and wait your chance.""You may spare your breath," sneered Count Beula. "He'll go his own way in the end. He comes of an obstinate race.""Well, well, we'll give him the chance to ride with us," replied Batori. "If he prefers being killed, that's his affair. Now I'm going to sleep for an hour, and advise you to do the same."He lay down in a corner of the room, pulled his cloak round him, and in less than two minutes was sleeping soundly."Behold!" exclaimed the count, laughing in his detestable manner, "the beauty of possessing an easy conscience."I made no reply, being engaged in wrapping myself up; and apparently no reply was expected.The count was evidently in a state of great anxiety, and several times during our brief rest wakened me by passing into the next room, as if he went to see that all was right.I could not understand the man. He was so different from the Count Beula who had displayed such gallantry at the storming of Buda. In the breach no danger had unnerved him; here he blenched at the hint of it, and I attributed the difference to his dread of being hanged.However, in spite of his restlessness, I managed at last to fall into a sound sleep, and was dreaming that Rakoczy and I were safe at Gyula, when some one pulled me roughly to my feet.The candles had burned out, but the dawn was stealing through the one little window, and by its light I recognized Batori Gabor. His face was flushed and excited; he had put on his cap and cuirass, had buckled on his sword, and was equally ready to fight or fly."Quick!" cried he, not in panic, but in such tones as you might expect from a man accustomed to carry his life in his hands. "To the stables! The Austrians are out!"I looked for the count. He had already disappeared.Picking up my mantle, I ran into the kitchen. It was empty, save for the frightened innkeeper and his wife, who stood half-dressed, wringing their hands and shivering.I was rushing to the door when the man, as if in desperation, seized a piece of rope which lay in the corner and flung himself before me.Thinking he meant mischief, I touched my sword; but his action was the effect of fear."My lord," he cried, "we shall be murdered. Have mercy, for the sake of Heaven, and bind us. Then they will know that we harboured the 'poor lads' unwillingly.""You have a kind face, my sweet master," added the trembling woman; "may your heart match it."I thought the proposed stratagem a clumsy one; but the poor people were in such deadly earnest that I took the rope and proceeded to tie the woman.In the midst of it the door was flung open violently, and quick as thought I drew my pistol and covered the intruder.It was the outlaw, who had come to seek me."Well," cried he; "of all the fools!" Then, checking himself, he got another coil of rope and bound the inn-keeper deftly."One makes more," said he, finishing as soon as I. "Come on. There's no time for philanthropy. The men are howling with impatience, and Count Beula's nearly off his head."The band was mounted, and one of them at his leader's command had saddled my horse.They looked a rough set with their lances and loaded axes and lassos, which they carried before them on their saddles.The chief sprang into his seat; I followed suit, and off we went--Count Beula well to the fore.I looked down the road, expecting to see the Austrians; but, thanks to Batori's sentries, we had fully two minutes' start before they appeared.There were perhaps fifty of them, and they rode like men secure of their prey; but our horses were fresh, and, being all picked animals, easily increased their lead.A pistol shot or two came singing after us, but without doing mischief, and Batori laughed derisively at the enemy's efforts."Take it easy, my lads," he shouted. "Those old screws wouldn't catch us between this and Debreczin, if we walked all the way."This, of course, was not exactly correct; but there could be little doubt that, by putting our animals to their utmost speed, we could shake off our pursuers at almost any time.Even Beula noticed this, and, though his face was still pale, he dropped back to us."Another miss of the halter, count," cried the brigand cheerfully; "you're in luck's way. But I'll tell you what it is--you set my men a very bad example;" and I fancied there was a note of anger in his voice.The count shook off his strange fear for a moment, saying with some of his old jauntiness, "They are more familiar with the noose than I.""Bah!" cried the robber in disgust; "if you had not gained praise from Bern, I should say you were a rank coward.""As a bandit, perhaps I am," he replied; a remark at which Batori, instead of showing anger, only laughed.That Count Beula could on occasion be brave as a lion I already knew, and he was yet to give me another proof.We were, as I have said, distancing the cavalry in our rear, when a loud shout proclaimed a new and more serious danger.The Austrians, by dividing their forces, had cleverly placed us between two fires.A second body, instead of entering the village, had worked round to the right, and now debouched into the road in front of us; while their comrades, who had purposely held their horses back, dashed up at full speed.The robber chief took in the situation at a glance."Trapped!" said he; "and in the very worst place. Smart fellow, that Austrian."At the certainty of a desperate fight Count Beula lost his paleness. His face glowed with healthy excitement; he looked round on the band of brigands as if he were leading a regiment.At the first sight of the enemy we had, almost without thinking, slackened our pace, and now Batori halted us altogether.Riding to the front, he turned to his men."My lads," said he, "we're in a hole; but it isn't the first. You know what happens on these occasions. Those who get out will ride with me again; those who don't--" And he concluded with a pantomimic gesture which made Beula shudder."Elijen Batori!" shouted the bandits, and their leader smiled.The Austrians in the rear were spurring hard; but we took no notice of them, our attention being fixed on those in front. Could we break them?I had taken part in more than one cavalry charge against long odds, and to me the feat seemed impossible.Batori, however, showed little anxiety; while his men were almost as cool as he was.Sword in hand, Count Beula took his place on the right of the leader; I rode at his left.There were no unnecessary orders. Every man knew he had to pierce that body of cavalry somehow, or be hanged to the nearest tree; and if the knowledge did not bring true courage, it at least sent every one into the fight with a determination to get through.The bandits couched their lances, and dug their spurs deeply into the horses' sides. Batori, who was evidently a superb horseman, rode without using the reins, having a sword in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other.The Austrians bided their time; and, as we drew nearer, it flashed into my mind that their leader, who, but for a terrible scar across his face, would have been a handsome man, was none other than my old opponent, Von Theyer.There was likely to be a very short shrift for me if I fell into his hands; and, unfortunately, my uniform rendered me conspicuous. However, I had little time to think about what might happen; I was too much engaged in what was happening.Count Beula struck the enemy first, and, but for a shot from Batori's pistol, that moment would have ended his career. I wished later it had.Crash we went into the midst of them, the long lances boring a passage for their owners.Von Theyer made a dash at me, but was thrown back; and we did not get within sword-arm of each other during the fight.Still, I had ample work without troubling the Austrian leader, as several hussars, attracted no doubt by my uniform, made a desperate attempt to hem me in.A loud cry announced that one man had got through.It was Batori; but he dashed back into themêléein order to rescue a wounded follower.His men, raised to the highest pitch of enthusiasm by this sight, shook their opponents off and spurred to the spot.A young Austrian officer--a sublieutenant, I judged--rode at me furiously, leaving me barely time to parry his stroke.Turning, he came again, when a terrific blow from a loaded hatchet brought his horse to the ground--dead.The youngster scrambled to his feet and attacked his new enemy; but the bandit pushed on to join his leader, and I followed with Count Beula.We two were the last to leave the press, and the Austrians were hot on our heels.Von Theyer led the van, though he had been badly wounded, and his face was covered with blood.Now that the brunt of the fight was over, my companion seemed again to fall under the spell of his strange fear, being blind to everything except escaping.He spurred his horse cruelly, until the animal, maddened by pain, darted ahead, and I was left alone.Von Theyer, yards in advance of his hussars, galloped on; and I heard him shouting, but could not distinguish the words.Fortunately, my pistols were still loaded, and, drawing one from the holster, I turned in my saddle and fired.Von Theyer was not hit; but his gallant horse, staggering forward a dozen paces, reeled and fell.The hussars stayed to extricate their leader, and the delay gave me a little breathing space.Once again I wheeled and rode on in pursuit of Count Beula, while a shot from a carbine whistled past my head.Two others followed in quick succession, doing no harm--at least, that was my impression.Rather strangely though, it appeared to me that the count was slackening speed, and soon I became certain of it.The distance between us decreased. I was catching him up hand over hand; the thing was amazing.I hoped at first his manhood had come back to him, and that he waited purposely for me; but soon I recognized the truth.One of the shots intended for me had struck his horse in the haunches, and the poor animal, losing blood at every stride, was growing feebler each succeeding moment.The bandits--at least those who survived--were a little ahead of us; the pursuers were closing up again; my companion was doomed.He knew it too. His face had become ashy grey, his eyes were wild and staring; the Count Beula of the breach and the battlefield had disappeared."They will hang me, Botskay," he wailed--"hang me like a common thief on the roadside."The terror of the hempen noose, about which Batori had chaffed him, had affected his brain--upset his balance, so to speak. I can give no other explanation of his strange behaviour or of what happened immediately afterwards.Batori, looking back, waved his arm to bid us ride faster; but Beula's horse was totally exhausted, and with one last ineffectual stagger forward it rolled over, entangling its rider in the reins.A shout from the Austrians greeted this downfall, and the count's white face looked up appealingly."They will hang me, Botskay!" he cried, and I regarded the cry as one for help.The Austrians were close upon us. There was barely time even to set him free; and what then?Was I to die because the man I hated asked an impossible thing?It was monstrous; it was out of all reason. I would push on and save my own life. Count Beula had no claim on me.The struggle was keen and full of bitter anguish, but it was over in a second; the next I had slipped to the ground and was tugging at the fallen man.CHAPTER XXIV.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.
CHAPTER XXIII.
COUNT BEULA DISLIKES HANGING.
Batori Gabor stood at the door of the inner room, and with the instinctive courtesy of the Magyar bade me welcome.
This famous brigand, who for years had lived an outlaw's life, was tall and strongly built, with massive limbs and deep, capacious chest. His face was bronzed and rugged; his black hair hung in curls over his shoulders; his eyes were dark, fiery, and searching.
He had laid aside his steel cuirass; but a brace of pistols peeped from his richly-ornamented girdle, and I doubted not they were both loaded.
"The Austrians overload me with favours," he exclaimed laughingly. "You are the second guest I am indebted to them for.--Count, I think you said Captain Botskay was an acquaintance of yours?"
Hitherto I had not noticed that Batori Gabor had a companion in the room; now I saw a man in military uniform sitting at the table.
At the outlaw's words he rose, and, turning toward me, showed the blue eyes and handsome, cynical features of Count Beula.
"This is a surprise, count," I said coldly. "I thought a clever man like yourself would by now be over the border with Kossuth."
"How strange!" he answered lightly. "I concluded you had found refuge with Görgei's Russian friends."
"Yet you are both with Batori Gabor," broke in the brigand cheerfully; "which is stranger still, since a month ago either of you would have had him shot like a dog."
"Not I, my dear Gabor," murmured Beula sweetly. "I appreciate your courage too much."
"And my knowledge of the country," added Gabor slyly.
"Well, yes. I think that may be turned to very good account, till Haynau has grown tired of his butcher's knife."
"Which will not be soon. We are, however, keeping Captain Botskay from his supper--an unpardonable offence."
Opening the door, he ordered an extra knife and fork. Then he invited me to sit, saying, "The table's rather crowded, captain; but we have all our courses laid at once. It isn't a banquet, but you'll find it better than black bread and bacon. Help yourself. I can recommend the salmon, because one of my fellows caught it this evening. I fancy the veal has done a breadth or two of ploughing in its time; but the chicken's tender."
The outlaw certainly proved a most attentive and courteous host, and enlivened the meal by relating some of the most humorous and inoffensive of his adventures.
During the war he had turned patriot, and had really done the enemy a great deal of mischief by cutting off convoys and intercepting mounted messengers.
After supper he went to give his orders for the night; and I, not caring to remain alone with Count Beula, borrowed a lantern, and strolled out to the shed which served as a stable.
There were nine or ten horses in the place, and I noticed that saddles and bridles were all hung so that they might readily be got at.
My own animal had received an ample allowance of food, and, after a night's rest, would, I reckoned, be in capital trim.
I might have stayed longer to get a better look at the robbers' horses, but the big dog sniffed so longingly at my legs that I thought it best to remove temptation from his path.
Batori Gabor returned at the same time, and one of the band brought in some wine of a quality rarely found outside a nobleman's house.
"Been to look at your horse, captain?" he asked. "Sensible that, seeing you may have to trust your life to its speed.--Well, count, I think we may reckon on a quiet night. Andras has returned, and says the Austrians are sound asleep.
"I should feel easier if we were twenty miles farther on," answered the count.
"So should I, for that matter; but the horses were bound to have a long rest. Meanwhile we may as well make ourselves comfortable.--Captain Botskay, a glass of wine? By the way, you have not yet told us how you come to be in this part of the country. I should fancy this a very unhealthy spot for persons of your habits of life," and he laughed at his little joke quite pleasantly.
"The tale will not take long in telling," I said. "The general sent me to Nagy Sándor at Debreczin, where I had a nasty knock which laid me up for several days. Then I followed the army, arriving at Vilagos just in time to see the surrender."
"But after that?"
"I started for Nagy Kikinda, where they say the 9th Honveds have been taken."
"Looking for Rakoczy?" asked the count, and I nodded.
"You wouldn't guess what a hero our friend is," remarked the count to Batori Gabor. "He is actually risking his life on the chance of finding out what has become of John Rakoczy, colonel of the 9th Honveds."
"Then you're a very gallant fellow, Captain Botskay," said the outlaw; "though I must stop you from playing such a mad prank. Do you know that every road in your path is barred by Austrian troops? You cannot possibly get past them; and if you could, the journey would be useless."
"Still, I intend trying."
Batori Gabor shrugged his shoulders. The count laughed in the sneering manner which always made me anxious to pitch him out of the window.
"You must be fonder of a hempen rope than I," he said; "but perhaps your name isn't on the proscribed list?"
"I don't know."
"Well, mine is."
"And mine," laughed Gabor. "It's been there for years. It doesn't hurt me in the least. I look on it as an honour."
"Every man to his taste," said the count. "I have no fancy to die in a hempen collar. I am no coward, but the thought of being hanged like a dog by these Austrian butchers puts me in a bath of perspiration."
"You came pretty near it yesterday."
The count shuddered.
"Don't," said he; "it gives me an ague fit to think of it."
I pointed out that he was probably alarming himself without reason, as the Austrians were not likely to do more than put him in prison for a few months.
Batori shook his head.
"You're wrong there, captain," cried he. "The count and I row in the same boat, and capture means death. We are to be strung up to the nearest tree or beam capable of bearing our weight by those who catch us. The very notion of it puts the count into a flutter."
Now I had once thought Count Beula a coward, and had been obliged to own my mistake; yet at this talk of Austrian vengeance his face became white, and he trembled like a leaf. He tried to laugh it off, saying that Görgei was in the right of it, surrendering to the Russians.
"He would have done a sharper thing by slipping into Turkey with Kossuth and his friends," I made answer.
"There you are," exclaimed our bandit friend. "That's what lost the war before it began. Two sets of leaders, and two objects to fight for; why, it's worse than having two captains over one band. However, it's done now, and not worth quarrelling about. We have to save our heads--a far more important matter."
"I am going to look for Colonel Rakoczy in the morning."
"Are you? Well, excuse the plain speech, captain--you're a fool. The exercise of my profession has made me acquainted with this part of the country, and even I could not venture a mile southward without being captured. The Austrians are stopping every pass and blocking every hole; they think Kossuth is still in the district. Why, but for me, our friend here would at this very moment be swinging in the wind, and, at the best, we half foundered our horses in getting him away. However, they are recovering, and to-morrow night will see us safe. You'd better join us, and wait your chance."
"You may spare your breath," sneered Count Beula. "He'll go his own way in the end. He comes of an obstinate race."
"Well, well, we'll give him the chance to ride with us," replied Batori. "If he prefers being killed, that's his affair. Now I'm going to sleep for an hour, and advise you to do the same."
He lay down in a corner of the room, pulled his cloak round him, and in less than two minutes was sleeping soundly.
"Behold!" exclaimed the count, laughing in his detestable manner, "the beauty of possessing an easy conscience."
I made no reply, being engaged in wrapping myself up; and apparently no reply was expected.
The count was evidently in a state of great anxiety, and several times during our brief rest wakened me by passing into the next room, as if he went to see that all was right.
I could not understand the man. He was so different from the Count Beula who had displayed such gallantry at the storming of Buda. In the breach no danger had unnerved him; here he blenched at the hint of it, and I attributed the difference to his dread of being hanged.
However, in spite of his restlessness, I managed at last to fall into a sound sleep, and was dreaming that Rakoczy and I were safe at Gyula, when some one pulled me roughly to my feet.
The candles had burned out, but the dawn was stealing through the one little window, and by its light I recognized Batori Gabor. His face was flushed and excited; he had put on his cap and cuirass, had buckled on his sword, and was equally ready to fight or fly.
"Quick!" cried he, not in panic, but in such tones as you might expect from a man accustomed to carry his life in his hands. "To the stables! The Austrians are out!"
I looked for the count. He had already disappeared.
Picking up my mantle, I ran into the kitchen. It was empty, save for the frightened innkeeper and his wife, who stood half-dressed, wringing their hands and shivering.
I was rushing to the door when the man, as if in desperation, seized a piece of rope which lay in the corner and flung himself before me.
Thinking he meant mischief, I touched my sword; but his action was the effect of fear.
"My lord," he cried, "we shall be murdered. Have mercy, for the sake of Heaven, and bind us. Then they will know that we harboured the 'poor lads' unwillingly."
"You have a kind face, my sweet master," added the trembling woman; "may your heart match it."
I thought the proposed stratagem a clumsy one; but the poor people were in such deadly earnest that I took the rope and proceeded to tie the woman.
In the midst of it the door was flung open violently, and quick as thought I drew my pistol and covered the intruder.
It was the outlaw, who had come to seek me.
"Well," cried he; "of all the fools!" Then, checking himself, he got another coil of rope and bound the inn-keeper deftly.
"One makes more," said he, finishing as soon as I. "Come on. There's no time for philanthropy. The men are howling with impatience, and Count Beula's nearly off his head."
The band was mounted, and one of them at his leader's command had saddled my horse.
They looked a rough set with their lances and loaded axes and lassos, which they carried before them on their saddles.
The chief sprang into his seat; I followed suit, and off we went--Count Beula well to the fore.
I looked down the road, expecting to see the Austrians; but, thanks to Batori's sentries, we had fully two minutes' start before they appeared.
There were perhaps fifty of them, and they rode like men secure of their prey; but our horses were fresh, and, being all picked animals, easily increased their lead.
A pistol shot or two came singing after us, but without doing mischief, and Batori laughed derisively at the enemy's efforts.
"Take it easy, my lads," he shouted. "Those old screws wouldn't catch us between this and Debreczin, if we walked all the way."
This, of course, was not exactly correct; but there could be little doubt that, by putting our animals to their utmost speed, we could shake off our pursuers at almost any time.
Even Beula noticed this, and, though his face was still pale, he dropped back to us.
"Another miss of the halter, count," cried the brigand cheerfully; "you're in luck's way. But I'll tell you what it is--you set my men a very bad example;" and I fancied there was a note of anger in his voice.
The count shook off his strange fear for a moment, saying with some of his old jauntiness, "They are more familiar with the noose than I."
"Bah!" cried the robber in disgust; "if you had not gained praise from Bern, I should say you were a rank coward."
"As a bandit, perhaps I am," he replied; a remark at which Batori, instead of showing anger, only laughed.
That Count Beula could on occasion be brave as a lion I already knew, and he was yet to give me another proof.
We were, as I have said, distancing the cavalry in our rear, when a loud shout proclaimed a new and more serious danger.
The Austrians, by dividing their forces, had cleverly placed us between two fires.
A second body, instead of entering the village, had worked round to the right, and now debouched into the road in front of us; while their comrades, who had purposely held their horses back, dashed up at full speed.
The robber chief took in the situation at a glance.
"Trapped!" said he; "and in the very worst place. Smart fellow, that Austrian."
At the certainty of a desperate fight Count Beula lost his paleness. His face glowed with healthy excitement; he looked round on the band of brigands as if he were leading a regiment.
At the first sight of the enemy we had, almost without thinking, slackened our pace, and now Batori halted us altogether.
Riding to the front, he turned to his men.
"My lads," said he, "we're in a hole; but it isn't the first. You know what happens on these occasions. Those who get out will ride with me again; those who don't--" And he concluded with a pantomimic gesture which made Beula shudder.
"Elijen Batori!" shouted the bandits, and their leader smiled.
The Austrians in the rear were spurring hard; but we took no notice of them, our attention being fixed on those in front. Could we break them?
I had taken part in more than one cavalry charge against long odds, and to me the feat seemed impossible.
Batori, however, showed little anxiety; while his men were almost as cool as he was.
Sword in hand, Count Beula took his place on the right of the leader; I rode at his left.
There were no unnecessary orders. Every man knew he had to pierce that body of cavalry somehow, or be hanged to the nearest tree; and if the knowledge did not bring true courage, it at least sent every one into the fight with a determination to get through.
The bandits couched their lances, and dug their spurs deeply into the horses' sides. Batori, who was evidently a superb horseman, rode without using the reins, having a sword in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other.
The Austrians bided their time; and, as we drew nearer, it flashed into my mind that their leader, who, but for a terrible scar across his face, would have been a handsome man, was none other than my old opponent, Von Theyer.
There was likely to be a very short shrift for me if I fell into his hands; and, unfortunately, my uniform rendered me conspicuous. However, I had little time to think about what might happen; I was too much engaged in what was happening.
Count Beula struck the enemy first, and, but for a shot from Batori's pistol, that moment would have ended his career. I wished later it had.
Crash we went into the midst of them, the long lances boring a passage for their owners.
Von Theyer made a dash at me, but was thrown back; and we did not get within sword-arm of each other during the fight.
Still, I had ample work without troubling the Austrian leader, as several hussars, attracted no doubt by my uniform, made a desperate attempt to hem me in.
A loud cry announced that one man had got through.
It was Batori; but he dashed back into themêléein order to rescue a wounded follower.
His men, raised to the highest pitch of enthusiasm by this sight, shook their opponents off and spurred to the spot.
A young Austrian officer--a sublieutenant, I judged--rode at me furiously, leaving me barely time to parry his stroke.
Turning, he came again, when a terrific blow from a loaded hatchet brought his horse to the ground--dead.
The youngster scrambled to his feet and attacked his new enemy; but the bandit pushed on to join his leader, and I followed with Count Beula.
We two were the last to leave the press, and the Austrians were hot on our heels.
Von Theyer led the van, though he had been badly wounded, and his face was covered with blood.
Now that the brunt of the fight was over, my companion seemed again to fall under the spell of his strange fear, being blind to everything except escaping.
He spurred his horse cruelly, until the animal, maddened by pain, darted ahead, and I was left alone.
Von Theyer, yards in advance of his hussars, galloped on; and I heard him shouting, but could not distinguish the words.
Fortunately, my pistols were still loaded, and, drawing one from the holster, I turned in my saddle and fired.
Von Theyer was not hit; but his gallant horse, staggering forward a dozen paces, reeled and fell.
The hussars stayed to extricate their leader, and the delay gave me a little breathing space.
Once again I wheeled and rode on in pursuit of Count Beula, while a shot from a carbine whistled past my head.
Two others followed in quick succession, doing no harm--at least, that was my impression.
Rather strangely though, it appeared to me that the count was slackening speed, and soon I became certain of it.
The distance between us decreased. I was catching him up hand over hand; the thing was amazing.
I hoped at first his manhood had come back to him, and that he waited purposely for me; but soon I recognized the truth.
One of the shots intended for me had struck his horse in the haunches, and the poor animal, losing blood at every stride, was growing feebler each succeeding moment.
The bandits--at least those who survived--were a little ahead of us; the pursuers were closing up again; my companion was doomed.
He knew it too. His face had become ashy grey, his eyes were wild and staring; the Count Beula of the breach and the battlefield had disappeared.
"They will hang me, Botskay," he wailed--"hang me like a common thief on the roadside."
The terror of the hempen noose, about which Batori had chaffed him, had affected his brain--upset his balance, so to speak. I can give no other explanation of his strange behaviour or of what happened immediately afterwards.
Batori, looking back, waved his arm to bid us ride faster; but Beula's horse was totally exhausted, and with one last ineffectual stagger forward it rolled over, entangling its rider in the reins.
A shout from the Austrians greeted this downfall, and the count's white face looked up appealingly.
"They will hang me, Botskay!" he cried, and I regarded the cry as one for help.
The Austrians were close upon us. There was barely time even to set him free; and what then?
Was I to die because the man I hated asked an impossible thing?
It was monstrous; it was out of all reason. I would push on and save my own life. Count Beula had no claim on me.
The struggle was keen and full of bitter anguish, but it was over in a second; the next I had slipped to the ground and was tugging at the fallen man.
CHAPTER XXIV.
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.