CHAPTER XV.HOW STEPHEN CARRIED THE FLAG."George!""All right, old boy," I answered in a whisper, rubbing my eyes. "I believe I've been asleep.""I'm sure you have. But wake up now; the word to be ready has come."At the very moment of waking I knew something was wrong, but it was not until my brother spoke the second time that I remembered where we were.By some odd chance I had been dreaming of the years gone by, when Stephen and I were merry children playing in the old home at Gyula.The past had returned to me so vividly--the sound of my father's voice, the picture of my mother's beautiful face and loving smile--that even now I could scarcely grasp the truth.I had forgotten all about the cruel war, the trenches, the coming assault, and the near danger of death, so that the shock of awakening unnerved me for the moment.The word had come! What word? Where was I? Ah! my memory returned with a rush, and I sprang to my feet."Steady, old fellow," said my brother cheerfully; "we mustn't make a noise yet."I pressed his hand and whispered,--"I had forgotten. I was dreaming we were children at home again.""Don't, George; you hurt me," said he sharply, as if in pain, though I only pressed his hand gently.It was past midnight, and the men were in their places, while the bands stood massed behind the lines.The colonel came to us, and shook each by the hand."One never knows what may happen," he said. "There will be a fearful struggle. After Görgei's words the other day, my regiment can't go back; so, in case of accidents, you know--" And he shook our hands again.Rakoczy seemed much graver than usual, but I think he was filled with pity on his men's account.Stephen was, on the contrary, much more cheerful."George and I had a solemn leave-taking the other night," he said gaily, "and yet we didn't see a shot fired.""Ah!" exclaimed the colonel, responding to his humour; "we have no chance of missing our way this time."He moved off to his place, and again all was still.The silence and the darkness got on my nerves. I dreaded yet longed for the signal at the same time.We did not see the count, but he had sent a sarcastic message to Stephen during the evening, appointing a meeting inside the fortress.I leaned on my sword, staring into the darkness."Dreary work this!" exclaimed a voice in my ear, and Dobozy joined me.Like the rest of us, he looked forward to a terrible slaughter, and had come to say a word of farewell."I hope we shall soon go," he continued, after a pause; "the men are getting nervous.""The general's keeping up a tremendous cannonade," I whispered. "The guns must be nearly red-hot. Why, it's actually getting lighter.""Nearly two o'clock," said Stephen. "I suppose the general's been waiting for the engineer's report."Dobozy left us, and we resumed our watching.Although two-thirds of May had run out, it was bitterly cold in those early morning hours, and several times I shivered violently.The night was passing, and we could now see our own men, the still shadowy outlines of surrounding objects, and the ramparts of the fortress.At length the moment arrived. A flight of shells and fiery rockets went hissing and trailing over the stronghold; our men changed from figures of shadow-land into beings of flesh and blood; a hoarse whisper of command circulated through the trenches; the massed bands stationed behind broke into soul-stirring music; almost without knowing it we were advancing. Stephen, with a last hand-shake, a murmured good-bye, darted to the front. I headed the company; Rakoczy, to whose eyes the sparkle had returned, led the regiment.We moved forward unopposed; Hentzi was saving his ammunition.Of the conflict to the right and left I am not competent to speak; I know only the doings of our own regiment, and of the battalion led by Count Beula, which chance or fate brought close to us.Concerning the Austrians, or rather Croats, who held the fortress, it would be unjust to attempt to belittle their stubborn bravery. At the beginning of the siege General Hentzi had made a proud boast, and no man ever fulfilled a vaunt more truly.As the men with the scaling-ladders ran to plant their burdens, the great guns of the fortress boomed out, and instantly the place became like a babel.Cries of rage and pain rent the air, almost drowning the rattle of the musketry and the roar of the cannon.Through the smoke-cloud that shut out our view the white flashes pierced more and more quickly, as if the artillerymen were not giving themselves one moment's breathing space.A man at my side exclaimed "Oh!" in a surprised sort of way, and dropped, while I barely understood he was dead.A few paces farther a bursting shell knocked over half a dozen.We were rapidly approaching the thick of the firing."Forward! forward!" cried our colonel cheerfully. "The safest place is at close quarters."I remember laughing to myself and thinking it would be even safer at Debreczin with Kossuth and the members of the Diet.Bang! bang! The firing grew heavier, and our losses more considerable; but, as Rakoczy had said, there was no retreat for the 9th Honveds.After the mess we had made of it before, we were bound to get inside the fortress--that is, if any of us survived to reach the walls, which seemed doubtful.Meanwhile most of the ladder-men were dead or disabled. The stormers had taken their places, and were trying to rear the ladders against the ramparts.Stephen was with them, his face aflame, his eyes burning with excitement.We were quite near when he got one planted, and instantly began to climb.The light was breaking now, and our fellows cheered madly as they beheld the lithe, graceful figure springing to the top.A group of Croats, led by an officer, waited patiently with bayonets fixed, and I groaned at the thought of what must happen.Inspired by his example, the men crowded behind him eagerly--too eagerly, as it proved; for the ladder, groaning and creaking beneath their weight, snapped off, and the whole party dropped with a crash to the ground.Several never moved again, and I must confess I hoped Stephen was hurt, since it would save him from a sadder fate. To our astonishment, however, he jumped up from the wriggling mass, and was soon cheering on the survivors to fresh efforts.A loud shout on the left proclaimed that something of importance was happening there, and then it was I beheld Count Beula.The Croats were yelling with savage joy. Out of a dozen ladders not one remained upright, and the remnant of the assailants was in retreat, with the exception of the count.I always disliked the man, and indeed to this day I hate him, yet I must admit that here at Buda and elsewhere he proved himself a first-class fighting man.He stood now alone, save for the dead and wounded; but though the bullets fell around him fast, he never budged an inch.The distance was too great for me to see his face clearly, but I felt quite sure his lips were curled in a sarcastic sneer.Enemy of mine though he was, I cheered with the rest when, as if tired of waiting for the runaways to come back, he coolly advanced alone.What occurred next, or who induced the battalion to return, I cannot say, as the colonel immediately gave the signal for the assault.The men responded with a cheer. They burned to be on the walls, where they could meet the defenders on more equal terms, and the regiment bounded forward like one man.Now, too, I missed Stephen, for the fighting became so fierce and confused that it was impossible to see anything beyond what took place close at hand.The fire from the great guns continued steadily; but it was less violent, and we afterwards learned that three of the pieces had blown up.The bullets, however, rattled down faster than ever, and man after man fell.The rest of us rushed on. We were at the breach. Already some of the stormers were entering, and my heart leaped to my mouth as I saw Stephen foremost.[image]"My heart leaped to my mouth as I saw Stephen foremost." Page 233.]Plainly he was determined that the count should have no cause to crow over him this time.I caught a brief glimpse of Rakoczy. He had been hurt, but his voice was still cheerful as he encouraged his men forward.On and up we went, sometimes packed together, then separated into small groups, while frequently one of the foremost came crashing backward, falling at the foot of the battlements.Though numbers dropped, the survivors pressed on doggedly. Whatever our loss, every one knew now that the assault must prove successful.Vainly the Croats poured in their murderous volleys; they could not keep us back. We were getting into close touch with them, where steel would take the place of lead.I was a short distance behind the colonel when he suddenly paused, waved his sword, and cheered vigorously.The Honveds took up the cry, and the sound of their voices drowned all else, while I stood spell-bound.The first of the assailants had put foot inside the fortress; the first Hungarian flag fluttered on the ramparts.For one moment I was the proudest, as I was soon to be the most miserable lad in Hungary; for the flag belonged to the 9th Honveds, and the soldier guarding it was my brother."That's one better than Count Beula!" shouted Dobozy, when another cheer arose. A little to the left the count appeared--the second to mount the walls.Perhaps I lost a second--not more--enjoying my triumph; then I shot past the colonel, and reached my brother's side.He had already received several hurts, but was still gallantly holding his ground against long odds, when I joined him."Bravo, old fellow!" I cried, parrying a fierce thrust from an Austrian officer."It's all right now, George! I beat him!" he shouted.At the same moment a savage-looking Croat sprang at him; but there was the rapid gleam of a bayonet, a sharp cry, and the fellow fell dead.A swift glance showed me Mecsey Sándor, who throughout the fight had, as usual, followed my steps like a dog.Every moment now strengthened us, while it weakened the enemy, who, seeing this, made a desperate effort to hurl us back before the rest of our forces arrived.A tall, fine-looking veteran, with huge snowy moustaches, led the charge, cutting his way almost to the walls.The others were beaten off; but they came at us again and again, till scarcely a single officer remained alive to lead them.It was cruel work, and I rejoiced with my whole heart when at length the brave fellows, overwhelmed by numbers, sullenly gave way.Stephen, forgetful of his wounds, leaped forward with the flag, and we all followed, panting like hounds with the quarry in sight.Count Beula, who had fought his way well to the front without receiving a scratch, ran with the main body; but in front of every one was my brother, with Sándor and myself next, and the wounded Rakoczy a foot or so behind.The flag danced and waved in the reddening dawn; then suddenly it fell, rising again the next instant as proudly as before, but now, alas! stained with newly-shed blood.The Croats, as if ashamed of retreating--though they had little cause for shame--once more drew together, and those who had loaded rifles fired into the midst of us.A few men fell, but they were mere drops in the ocean. The crowd closed up solid and compact as before, and it was seen that the enemy had made their final effort.A wild cheer greeted the hoisting of a white flag on the summit of the citadel; a wilder one still was raised when Stephen planted the glorious red, white, and green colours beside it.My loved brother stood there a few moments, his face white, save where the red blood trickled, his eyes bright and burning, his bearing proud and defiant.But, alas! I saw that he held the staff with effort, and, climbing up, was just in time to catch his swaying body as it fell."Dear old George!" he murmured, "I meant to do it, and succeeded."Then his eyes closed, his head sank, and I laid him gently on the ground in the shadow of the flag he had borne to victory.The noise of the conflict ceased. The Croats, yielding their arms, were granted quarter, and marched off as prisoners. Buda was ours!I heard later how fearful the struggle had been. Of the twenty-five guns near the breach but one remained of service, and near the spot where we forced an entrance lay a group of no less than thirty-six Austrian officers.The foremost was Hentzi himself, who, in the very front of the fight, had gained imperishable renown, both for himself and the flag he had so stubbornly defended.Many hard words had been said of him when, lying out on the hillside, we had watched our beautiful Pesth half ruined by his artillery; but he had fought and died like a brave soldier and loyal subject of his emperor.These things were far enough from my mind on the morning of the storming; in fact, I forgot all else in tending my wounded brother.Several men came and looked at him sorrowfully. Rakoczy was one, I know; and I believe, but am not sure, that one was Count Beula.Then a little group approached, the leader being a surgeon, who stooping down shook his head in grief.The others brought water and bandages, and he washed away the blood, leaving the face wan and colourless. Then he loosened my brother's jacket, uttering a hasty exclamation at sight of something beneath.I sat stupid with grief beside the wounded lad, nothing rousing me till I beheld the closely-cropped hair and rugged features of General Görgei."My poor boy!" said he, in a tone soft and caressing as a woman's. "Stephen, don't you know me? I am Arthur Görgei. Look at me, my dear young friend," and he gently chafed my brother's hand.At the general's words Stephen opened his eyes, and looked at Görgei with a feeble smile."It's--all--right--general," he murmured very softly, and his eyes closed again.Görgei stooped and kissed the boyish face tenderly."As gallant a youth as ever fought for Hungary, and worthy of his honourable name!" said he with deep feeling.Then, turning to me, he spoke some kindly words, and, having questioned the surgeon privately, went his way.The master of legions has little time for private griefs; and indeed this visit to my brother, taking place as it did before anything else was done, furnished matter for much talk in the army.When the general had gone, the surgeon came to me. He had a pleasant face, and the horrors of war had failed to blunt the natural kindness of his heart."Captain Botskay," he began, "this is a very sad event; but you must be brave, and nerve yourself to bear the blow. Your brother is seriously hurt--so seriously indeed that I dare not venture to move him.""Do you mean he is dying?" I asked hoarsely."One ought never to despair," he answered; "and yet I cannot hold out false hopes to you. Only a miracle, my poor boy, can save your brother's life. I have done what I can for him. He is not in pain, but his wounds are fatal. It may not be for an hour or two, but certainly he cannot live through the day.""Thank you," I said simply, turning again to my task of watching.At the end of an hour some one placed an open flask in my hand, saying, "Drink, my sweet master; it will keep up your strength."It was Mecsey Sándor who had brought me food and drink.I shook my head."I cannot take it," I said.The faithful fellow insisted."You are weak, my sweet master," he urged. "In a little time you will become faint for want of food, you will grow delirious, and perhaps just then the captain will ask for you."I stretched out my hand for the food eagerly, alarmed by Sándor's suggestion, as the worthy fellow intended I should be.It must have done me good, though I ate and drank mechanically, hardly knowing, indeed, what I did.The morning passed very slowly. Twice the kind-hearted surgeon returned; but, as he had said, nothing could be done--we had only to wait for the end.Towards the middle of the afternoon I discovered Rakoczy standing near me.He had been badly wounded, and his proper place was in the hospital; but, like a stanch friend, he had come directly his hurts were dressed to share my grief."Is there no hope?" he asked.I shook my head. "The surgeon says he will die before the day is out.""Poor old Stephen!"That was all--not a long rigmarole of words, but just a few that came from his heart.Then we sat and watched the dying lad in silence. Even now the pain I felt was more like that caused by a horrid nightmare than by a proper understanding of the truth.Could this swathed and bandaged figure really be my bonny brother--he who so short a time back was full of life, and hope, and energy?So motionless he lay, so still, that I frequently pressed my lips to his to find if he still breathed.Had it been possible, I would willingly have changed places with him; for Stephen had ever been the object of my fondest love."George!"The sound almost brought the tears to my eyes, it was so feeble, and recalled so vividly the memory of our childhood.I gazed lovingly into the dear face, already taking the hue of death."I am dying, George, but don't grieve for me. With a good conscience, death is not hard, and I have tried to do my duty. Our father is smiling on me, and I am content. Is that Rakoczy? Dear old friend! True as steel! Is it evening? My sight is dim. Closer, brother; let me feel you. Ah!"I thought he had drawn his last breath, but presently he rallied."Rakoczy," he said very feebly, "good-bye! Tell the general. Remember me sometimes. What's that? John, you are weeping! 'John the Joyous' in tears--and for me? Good-bye, brother; God bless you."I placed my arm tenderly round his neck, and kissed him. I could not make answer in any other way; the words choked in my throat.Just at the last he whispered,--"George, stand by Görgei. He is the true patriot."As we bent over him, he smiled at us with infinite tenderness; then his eyes closed, and his breathing became hard; he tried to speak, but only one word escaped his lips, and that so faint we could not tell if it were my name or the general's.Rakoczy touched my arm."God has taken your brother to Himself!" he exclaimed solemnly.I heard him in a dazed way, and with true thoughtfulness he retired, leaving me alone to battle with my grief.I will not dwell upon the despair that wellnigh overwhelmed me. There are secrets of the heart that one does not betray even to the dearest of friends; but all who have lost some loved one will readily enter into my sufferings.When Rakoczy returned, I wiped away my tears and stood up, ready, though my heart was nearly breaking, to act in a manner worthy of him who had gone from me.The general, who, since the opening of the campaign, had grown very fond of my brother, gave orders that he should have a grand military funeral, and assisted at the ceremony himself.We wrapped the dead lad in the flag he had carried so bravely to the front, and buried him on the very spot where he fell.They told me afterwards that Count Beula was there to show respect to his late opponent; but I did not see him, and had no wish to do so.I cannot pretend that Stephen was blameless in the matter, but, rightly or wrongly, I looked on the count as being partly responsible for my brother's death, and hated him.The last volley was fired, the band struck up a spirited air, the troops marched off the ground, and after a while I was left alone to indulge my grief at the side of the newly-made grave.CHAPTER XVI.I JOIN THE STAFF.The fortress of Buda fell on the twenty-second of May. It was now the fifth of June, and the twin cities, though sorely scarred by the terrible bombardments, had dressed themselves in gala costume.All the troops--the 9th Honveds amongst them--stationed in the two towns were assembled under arms; and the men of the artillery on both sides of the Danube stood to their guns.A glance at the streets, however, showed that the citizens did not anticipate any fighting.The scene was a most animated one, and under happier circumstances I should doubtless have enjoyed the brilliant spectacle. Hundreds of gay flags--the red, white, and green stripes predominant--fluttered from the cupolas of the buildings; arches of garlands stretched across the streets; the people, dressed in their best finery, and many of them carrying splendid bouquets, promenaded to and fro, or occupied good positions from which to view the coming pageant.All along the route from the railway station the windows were crowded by richly-dressed ladies and children, craning their necks to catch the first sight of the hero.As our regiment marched to take its place, I could not help thinking of the many ruined families and the hundreds of wounded soldiers to whom this pageant must seem little more than a hollow mockery."I don't think this triumphal entry shows good taste on his part," I remarked to Dobozy, after we had halted."Suit him capitally!" declared he. "It's just like a stage-play. Did you hear how he is coming from Szolnok?""By rail, I suppose.""Yes, and in the emperor's private carriage. Anything's good enough for a thorough-paced republican.""I suppose his wife accompanies him?"Dobozy laughed and said we should see.Suddenly the guns roared out their brazen welcome; the people, waving their flags, cheered loudly; the bands played Rakotzy's patriotic march, and a company of guards issued from the station. Then the cheering became louder and wilder, and shouts of "Elijen Kossuth!" rose as Count Karoly's handsome chariot, drawn by four magnificent Hungarian horses, made its appearance. In it, his head crowned with laurel, sat the observed of all beholders, Louis Kossuth, Dictator of Hungary, and on his right a tall, haughty-looking woman with black hair and eyes, pointed nose, long chin, and regular mouth.This was the dictator's wife, Madame Theresa Kossuth, and I thought, though perhaps wrongly, that the light in her eyes was one of satisfied pride.Behind the chariot rode a long line of Magyar nobles, making a brilliant show in their national costume, though, for the country's sake, I would rather have seen them at the front in simple uniform.As Dobozy truly remarked, patriotism required very little sacrifice if it was satisfied by riding about the streets of the capital in gala attire.However, the procession passed, the hero was withdrawn from sight, and we were at liberty to return to barracks.The festivities continued all day, and in the evening the city was illuminated in honour of the dictator."Foolish people!" said the colonel sadly, as we strolled along the river-bank that night. "One would think, to see their transports, that the war is over, while it is really only beginning.""I can't understand why the general doesn't make a forward move, and drive the enemy out of Presburg.""Because he's waiting for ammunition and men," put in Dobozy, who was walking with us. "I saw Juranics yesterday--just come from the front, wounded in some outpost affair, I believe. He says only half the recruits have been sent on, and they don't even know their drill. Besides, they haven't any weapons, if they knew how to use them. Lively sort of army, eh? Juranics said plainly he believed Kossuth's party was jealous of Görgei's success.""They're afraid he'll topple their brand-new republic over," said the colonel; "which is just what he would do if the Austrians were cleared out. However, it's too late now. While we've been wasting our time, the enemy has been getting ready.""They say we shall have 160,000 Russians, besides the Austrians, to tackle.""That's so," replied the colonel cheerfully; "while we are split up into two factions, each fighting for a different object."Matters were, indeed, in a more desperate state than we thought. The Austrians, thoroughly frightened for the safety of the empire, had begged the assistance of Russia.They had already twice changed their chief, and were now led by Baron Haynau, an officer who had won distinction in several campaigns, but whose name was hereafter to be linked with acts of savage cruelty against which all Europe cried out in horror. He was now at Presburg with 60,000 men, waiting for the arrival of a veteran Russian division, which had been dispatched to his assistance.The principal Russian army, 76,000 strong, and led by the famous field-marshal, Paskewitch, was in Galicia, ready to descend on Central Hungary by way of the Carpathians. A third Russian army was to invade Transylvania, while Jellachich covered Croatia.However, there were gay doings in Pesth for one day at least, and when we turned in at night the city was stillen fête.I think it was the third evening after Kossuth's triumphal reception when the colonel sent word that he wished to see me. Being off duty, I returned with the messenger, little dreaming how great a change in my prospects the next half-hour would produce."Come in," cried Rakoczy pleasantly, as I knocked at the door.He was standing by the window overlooking the barrack-yard with another man, whom I immediately recognized as Görgei."All well?" cried the general genially, stretching out his hand. "That's right. Bit tedious hanging about Pesth, eh?""I think we should all be glad of a change, general.""You'll all get one soon, when the white-coats drive you out, and even then you'll grumble--eh, colonel?" and he gave Rakoczy a playful dig in the ribs."We'd much rather help you get inside Vienna," replied the colonel.The general's smile vanished."Too late!" he said shortly. "That should have been done a month ago. Take my word for it, old comrade, the game is lost; but we'll play it right out all the same, and only give in when we must.--Botskay, can you ride?""Fairly well," I answered, not wishing to boast."Would you like to come with me?""The general means on his staff," explained Rakoczy, smiling.Now, I should have liked this very much indeed, but for leaving Rakoczy, and this made me hesitate.The colonel, seeing my difficulty, laughed, and said,--"I'll answer for him, general. The berth will suit him capitally. The campaign has made him pretty hardy, and he'll soon learn to do without sleep.""Well," said the general kindly, laying his hand on my shoulder, "I shall be glad to have you. I was very fond of your brother, and miss him more than you would think. So just pack up anything you may want. I'm leaving by the steamer in an hour."I hurried to my room and called for Mecsey, who received the order to pack without betraying the least surprise. He would have taken it quite as a matter of course had I been appointed commander-in-chief.Then I went to say farewell to the officers of my regiment, had a last chat with Dobozy, who was sorry to lose me, and finally returned to the colonel's room."Good-bye, George," exclaimed my old friend warmly. "Sorry we're parting, but it will be better for you. Besides, we shall often see each other, and the war can't last long. From what the general tells me, we haven't the slightest chance. His army's in a wretched state, and the other leaders are all pulling different ways. However, we must keep our heads up and do the best we can; but don't take too many risks, my boy. Görgei will keep you well occupied, and there's no sense in knocking your head against a stone wall just for the fun of the thing.""Not a bit!" cried the general, coming in at the moment, "even if you have a wooden one. Well, good-bye, old fellow. We shall soon begin to move now, one way or the other. Get the regiment into trim as soon as you can; every man will be wanted.--Ready, Botskay? Come on then."Rakoczy pressed my hand, and accompanied us to the gates, where Sándor was already in waiting.With another warm hand-shake we left the colonel, and walked sharply to the embankment.Görgei had thrown an ample grey mantle over his sombre uniform, and had pulled his hat over his brow as if not particularly wishing to be recognized.He did not speak till we reached the landing-place, where a boat lay with steam up, ready to cast off at a moment's notice."Jump aboard," he exclaimed sharply. Then, to a sailor, "Help this man with the baggage. Are you right?--Go ahead, captain."The ropes were cast off, as I could tell by the movements of the steamer, but it was now too dark to see much.Görgei disappeared, while I, going to the bow of the boat, gazed ahead into the gloom.Here and there a light shining from the river's bank roused my interest for the moment; but taking it altogether, it was dreary work, and I thought regretfully of the snug barracks.Presently, however, Görgei joined me, and in his company I lost all sense of weariness and discomfort.Though burdened by such a load of care, and ready at any moment to assume the sternness of the chief, he laughed and joked with me as if we were equals, his cheerful gaiety making the time pass quite pleasantly.Indeed the general was a splendid companion, but he had two foibles--he thought sleep was a mistake, and eating a luxury one should try to do without.With these opinions I did not altogether hold, so I inwardly blessed the captain of the boat when he suggested we should go below and have a snack of supper.Having made a good meal, I wrapped myself up warmly and lay down, leaving Görgei poring over some maps and making calculations.I cannot say what occurred during the night, but when I awoke next morning the general was still intent on his work and looking fresh as ever.About mid-day the steamer slowed down; a boat was lowered, into which Sándor put my baggage; then Görgei got in, and we followed.We were not near any town, but the general had evidently made his arrangements, for as the sailors pulled us ashore, a body of soldiers--some on foot, others on horseback--came down to the water's edge.Görgei sprang out briskly, and held a hurried conversation with the leader of the party. Then he directed a soldier to give me his horse, mounted his own--a beautiful grey--and we all set off for headquarters.The appearance of the army confirmed my feeling of despondency. The men who had served throughout the campaign were in good trim, but those newly drafted to make up for our previous losses looked anything but soldiers.I discovered, too, that the officers were secretly uneasy, and their anxiety increased when, a few days after my arrival, Görgei's scouts brought word that a Russian division had joined Haynau at Presburg.This was on the fourteenth of June, and two days later witnessed the beginning of what may be called the second campaign.Our engineers had built several bridges over the river Waag, and on the fifteenth of June the army crossed to the farther side."Ah!" exclaimed one of my new comrades regretfully, "if we could have done this a month ago!""We should be in Vienna now," said another gaily; "but we aren't, and it's no use grumbling. Here comes Bethlen. Klapka has sent him with an important message, to judge by the state of his horse's flanks."The rider approached at a gallop, pulled his horse up sharply, and having saluted, handed a note to Görgei.The general, glancing at the contents, put the crumpled paper into his pocket."Tell General Klapka I'm much obliged, but I don't think anything serious will happen to-morrow."Bethlen saluted again, nodded to several of his acquaintances, and rode away at a quieter pace.Görgei had made his calculations accurately, and although several desperate outpost affairs occurred, it was not until the morning of the seventeenth that the two armies really joined battle.On the very same date, although we did not know it then, Field-Marshal Paskewitch emerged from the Carpathians on his march into Central Hungary.The battle began with a terrible artillery fire, which was directed against our centre; and Görgei himself, followed by the staff, galloped down to encourage the sorely-tried soldiers.At the same time he sent me to the colonel of a hussar regiment with an order to break up a mass of infantry, which was preparing to hurl itself on our weakened centre."Directly it's done, ride back as hard as you can," he said, and I dashed off.The colonel listened to the order, well pleased."Tell the general we will do it," he said with quiet confidence."He wishes me to stay and take back your report," I answered, and the colonel kindly agreed that I should ride with him.The regiment was composed of seasoned warriors, who hailed the sound of the trumpet with delight.With swords bared, we started at a trot, increasing the pace as we approached the enemy.The ground for the most part was flat, but there were several sandhills or banks, and from one of these a storm of shot ploughed into us as we rode by.The fire was so severe and unexpected that a regiment of young soldiers would have been thrown into confusion; but these veterans only shook their fists, vowing to capture the battery on their return.Our horses had got into their stride now, and we were fairly racing over the level ground.It was the first time I had taken part in a cavalry charge, and the blood ran hot in my veins.The colonel rode upright as a dart and stiff as a poker, but I, more accustomed to a horse's back on the broad plains than in a military riding-school, rode in a much easier though less dignified position.That men and horses were thoroughly well drilled one glance would have shown. In spite of the artillery fire and the speed at which we rode, there were no gaps. The horses raced neck by neck, with equal strides, and the whole regiment went forward like a piece of machinery.The Austrian battalions stood quite firm to receive us, and as we got nearer I doubted very much if we could break through that solid mass.But Görgei had not sent us to do the work alone. On our left, farther down the field, several squadrons, springing up unexpectedly, were riding straight at the battalions, and we, seeing this, cheered excitedly."Forward!" shouted the colonel, rising in his stirrups, "and keep together!"Whatever was going on elsewhere, the Austrians before us stood like a stone wall till we were well within range. Then came a blinding flash, a loud report, a greyish cloud of smoke, and, from behind me, fierce shouts and cries of pain.But above all rang out the stirring "Forward!" of the colonel, and almost at the same instant we were amongst the bayonets.Crash! we went, driving into the very centre of the mass, splitting it up into groups, pushing it this way and that, till a ringing cheer announced that the enemy were in full flight.The hussars, flushed and excited, would have gone pell-mell in pursuit, but fortunately the leader had his men well in hand, and made them re-form their ranks.Our comrades farther along the field, carried away by excitement, dashed after the runaways, and were soon widely scattered.Then, through a gap in the sandhills beyond, there suddenly issued a close, compact body of cavalry, which charged down upon us like an avalanche.Our horses were already blown; we ourselves were spent by the fierce fight; our losses had been severe, and many of the men still in the ranks were wounded; yet the colonel did not hesitate.Flight would result in our being cut to pieces; to stand still would give the enemy a tremendous advantage; there was nothing for it but to charge afresh.The colonel, waving his sword, sprang to the front; the bugles rang out; the men, cheering loudly, dug their spurs into their horses' flanks. Once more the regiment was in motion.The distance to be covered was short, but enough to get our animals well into their stride before the crash came.Fast as we rode, the Austrians rode still faster; and, but for the superior strength of the Hungarian horses, we should simply have been swept away by the furious shock.As it was, we charged them gallantly, and soon steel met steel as swords crossed or rang on the polished breast-plates.Our colonel--evidently a magnificent swordsman, and mounted on a powerful animal--drove his way through the serried ranks; but my passage was barred by the Austrian leader, who seemed to have singled me out specially.I wondered at this for a moment; then in a flash remembered who this handsome, blue-eyed fellow was."Von Theyer!" rose to my lips as, sitting his horse with a natural gracefulness, the former rebel rode straight at me.From that moment I lost sight of the general conflict.Round us rose the cries and groans of wounded men, the cheers and counter-cheers of the combatants, the sound of clashing swords; but to all I gave but a passing thought.This Von Theyer, who by some means--probably reckless bravery--had already risen high in the Austrian service, meant to kill me.His deadly purpose shone in his eyes, and it was obvious he expected to have an easy task.However, though he was by far the better master of the sword, I knew the more of horsemanship, and by swerving aside at the proper moment, caused his stroke to fail.Before he recovered I had pricked him in the arm. It was a slight wound, but it drew blood and made him angry.This was all in my favour, as he lost his caution, and, throwing away the advantage of his superior skill, attacked furiously.Again and again I avoided his weapon almost by a miracle; but at last I made a fierce cut which he failed to parry, and my sword slashed him right across the face.He threw up his hands with a cry of pain, falling in a heap on his horse's back.At the same instant a shout of alarm was raised; the hussars in advance, wheeling about, came dashing back, separating me from Von Theyer.Since I had left Görgei the aspect of the battle had entirely changed.While we had broken the Austrian battalions, our centre, fearfully weakened by a heavy cannonade from twenty-four guns, and furiously assailed by two brigades on its right flank, had given way.Worse still, the Russian general, seeing that the tide was turning, sent a splendid body of cuirassiers and two field-batteries to change the retreat into rout.It was the rapid approach of these famous horsemen that made us turn back.The colonel was angry, but he could not hope to pit his broken regiment successfully against the cuirassiers, while a prompt retreat might enable him to cover the flight of the infantry.So he gave the word, and we retired in good order, but at a gallop.Meanwhile the Austrian gunners received their allies with a roar of welcome, and the cuirassiers in glittering helmets and breastplates swept proudly on.With a message from the colonel, I made the best of my way to the chief, who as usual was in the thick of the fight, risking his life as freely as the humblest soldier.But the day was lost. We were outnumbered both in men and guns, and the Russian division had converted a possible victory into a disastrous defeat.For a time we made a desperate attempt to hold the village of Pered, but it was simply throwing men's lives away to no purpose; and at length the general, who, however much he objected to be beaten, did not believe in knocking his head against the wall, issued orders for a retreat."Find General Klapka," said he to me, "and tell him to withdraw his men across the Waag; but he must do his best to hold the bridges. If he doesn't, the enemy will chase us back to Pesth without a stop."I turned my horse's head, and dashed off along the line of fire; but time being precious, I could not afford to go a long way round.
CHAPTER XV.
HOW STEPHEN CARRIED THE FLAG.
"George!"
"All right, old boy," I answered in a whisper, rubbing my eyes. "I believe I've been asleep."
"I'm sure you have. But wake up now; the word to be ready has come."
At the very moment of waking I knew something was wrong, but it was not until my brother spoke the second time that I remembered where we were.
By some odd chance I had been dreaming of the years gone by, when Stephen and I were merry children playing in the old home at Gyula.
The past had returned to me so vividly--the sound of my father's voice, the picture of my mother's beautiful face and loving smile--that even now I could scarcely grasp the truth.
I had forgotten all about the cruel war, the trenches, the coming assault, and the near danger of death, so that the shock of awakening unnerved me for the moment.
The word had come! What word? Where was I? Ah! my memory returned with a rush, and I sprang to my feet.
"Steady, old fellow," said my brother cheerfully; "we mustn't make a noise yet."
I pressed his hand and whispered,--
"I had forgotten. I was dreaming we were children at home again."
"Don't, George; you hurt me," said he sharply, as if in pain, though I only pressed his hand gently.
It was past midnight, and the men were in their places, while the bands stood massed behind the lines.
The colonel came to us, and shook each by the hand.
"One never knows what may happen," he said. "There will be a fearful struggle. After Görgei's words the other day, my regiment can't go back; so, in case of accidents, you know--" And he shook our hands again.
Rakoczy seemed much graver than usual, but I think he was filled with pity on his men's account.
Stephen was, on the contrary, much more cheerful.
"George and I had a solemn leave-taking the other night," he said gaily, "and yet we didn't see a shot fired."
"Ah!" exclaimed the colonel, responding to his humour; "we have no chance of missing our way this time."
He moved off to his place, and again all was still.
The silence and the darkness got on my nerves. I dreaded yet longed for the signal at the same time.
We did not see the count, but he had sent a sarcastic message to Stephen during the evening, appointing a meeting inside the fortress.
I leaned on my sword, staring into the darkness.
"Dreary work this!" exclaimed a voice in my ear, and Dobozy joined me.
Like the rest of us, he looked forward to a terrible slaughter, and had come to say a word of farewell.
"I hope we shall soon go," he continued, after a pause; "the men are getting nervous."
"The general's keeping up a tremendous cannonade," I whispered. "The guns must be nearly red-hot. Why, it's actually getting lighter."
"Nearly two o'clock," said Stephen. "I suppose the general's been waiting for the engineer's report."
Dobozy left us, and we resumed our watching.
Although two-thirds of May had run out, it was bitterly cold in those early morning hours, and several times I shivered violently.
The night was passing, and we could now see our own men, the still shadowy outlines of surrounding objects, and the ramparts of the fortress.
At length the moment arrived. A flight of shells and fiery rockets went hissing and trailing over the stronghold; our men changed from figures of shadow-land into beings of flesh and blood; a hoarse whisper of command circulated through the trenches; the massed bands stationed behind broke into soul-stirring music; almost without knowing it we were advancing. Stephen, with a last hand-shake, a murmured good-bye, darted to the front. I headed the company; Rakoczy, to whose eyes the sparkle had returned, led the regiment.
We moved forward unopposed; Hentzi was saving his ammunition.
Of the conflict to the right and left I am not competent to speak; I know only the doings of our own regiment, and of the battalion led by Count Beula, which chance or fate brought close to us.
Concerning the Austrians, or rather Croats, who held the fortress, it would be unjust to attempt to belittle their stubborn bravery. At the beginning of the siege General Hentzi had made a proud boast, and no man ever fulfilled a vaunt more truly.
As the men with the scaling-ladders ran to plant their burdens, the great guns of the fortress boomed out, and instantly the place became like a babel.
Cries of rage and pain rent the air, almost drowning the rattle of the musketry and the roar of the cannon.
Through the smoke-cloud that shut out our view the white flashes pierced more and more quickly, as if the artillerymen were not giving themselves one moment's breathing space.
A man at my side exclaimed "Oh!" in a surprised sort of way, and dropped, while I barely understood he was dead.
A few paces farther a bursting shell knocked over half a dozen.
We were rapidly approaching the thick of the firing.
"Forward! forward!" cried our colonel cheerfully. "The safest place is at close quarters."
I remember laughing to myself and thinking it would be even safer at Debreczin with Kossuth and the members of the Diet.
Bang! bang! The firing grew heavier, and our losses more considerable; but, as Rakoczy had said, there was no retreat for the 9th Honveds.
After the mess we had made of it before, we were bound to get inside the fortress--that is, if any of us survived to reach the walls, which seemed doubtful.
Meanwhile most of the ladder-men were dead or disabled. The stormers had taken their places, and were trying to rear the ladders against the ramparts.
Stephen was with them, his face aflame, his eyes burning with excitement.
We were quite near when he got one planted, and instantly began to climb.
The light was breaking now, and our fellows cheered madly as they beheld the lithe, graceful figure springing to the top.
A group of Croats, led by an officer, waited patiently with bayonets fixed, and I groaned at the thought of what must happen.
Inspired by his example, the men crowded behind him eagerly--too eagerly, as it proved; for the ladder, groaning and creaking beneath their weight, snapped off, and the whole party dropped with a crash to the ground.
Several never moved again, and I must confess I hoped Stephen was hurt, since it would save him from a sadder fate. To our astonishment, however, he jumped up from the wriggling mass, and was soon cheering on the survivors to fresh efforts.
A loud shout on the left proclaimed that something of importance was happening there, and then it was I beheld Count Beula.
The Croats were yelling with savage joy. Out of a dozen ladders not one remained upright, and the remnant of the assailants was in retreat, with the exception of the count.
I always disliked the man, and indeed to this day I hate him, yet I must admit that here at Buda and elsewhere he proved himself a first-class fighting man.
He stood now alone, save for the dead and wounded; but though the bullets fell around him fast, he never budged an inch.
The distance was too great for me to see his face clearly, but I felt quite sure his lips were curled in a sarcastic sneer.
Enemy of mine though he was, I cheered with the rest when, as if tired of waiting for the runaways to come back, he coolly advanced alone.
What occurred next, or who induced the battalion to return, I cannot say, as the colonel immediately gave the signal for the assault.
The men responded with a cheer. They burned to be on the walls, where they could meet the defenders on more equal terms, and the regiment bounded forward like one man.
Now, too, I missed Stephen, for the fighting became so fierce and confused that it was impossible to see anything beyond what took place close at hand.
The fire from the great guns continued steadily; but it was less violent, and we afterwards learned that three of the pieces had blown up.
The bullets, however, rattled down faster than ever, and man after man fell.
The rest of us rushed on. We were at the breach. Already some of the stormers were entering, and my heart leaped to my mouth as I saw Stephen foremost.
[image]"My heart leaped to my mouth as I saw Stephen foremost." Page 233.]
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"My heart leaped to my mouth as I saw Stephen foremost." Page 233.]
Plainly he was determined that the count should have no cause to crow over him this time.
I caught a brief glimpse of Rakoczy. He had been hurt, but his voice was still cheerful as he encouraged his men forward.
On and up we went, sometimes packed together, then separated into small groups, while frequently one of the foremost came crashing backward, falling at the foot of the battlements.
Though numbers dropped, the survivors pressed on doggedly. Whatever our loss, every one knew now that the assault must prove successful.
Vainly the Croats poured in their murderous volleys; they could not keep us back. We were getting into close touch with them, where steel would take the place of lead.
I was a short distance behind the colonel when he suddenly paused, waved his sword, and cheered vigorously.
The Honveds took up the cry, and the sound of their voices drowned all else, while I stood spell-bound.
The first of the assailants had put foot inside the fortress; the first Hungarian flag fluttered on the ramparts.
For one moment I was the proudest, as I was soon to be the most miserable lad in Hungary; for the flag belonged to the 9th Honveds, and the soldier guarding it was my brother.
"That's one better than Count Beula!" shouted Dobozy, when another cheer arose. A little to the left the count appeared--the second to mount the walls.
Perhaps I lost a second--not more--enjoying my triumph; then I shot past the colonel, and reached my brother's side.
He had already received several hurts, but was still gallantly holding his ground against long odds, when I joined him.
"Bravo, old fellow!" I cried, parrying a fierce thrust from an Austrian officer.
"It's all right now, George! I beat him!" he shouted.
At the same moment a savage-looking Croat sprang at him; but there was the rapid gleam of a bayonet, a sharp cry, and the fellow fell dead.
A swift glance showed me Mecsey Sándor, who throughout the fight had, as usual, followed my steps like a dog.
Every moment now strengthened us, while it weakened the enemy, who, seeing this, made a desperate effort to hurl us back before the rest of our forces arrived.
A tall, fine-looking veteran, with huge snowy moustaches, led the charge, cutting his way almost to the walls.
The others were beaten off; but they came at us again and again, till scarcely a single officer remained alive to lead them.
It was cruel work, and I rejoiced with my whole heart when at length the brave fellows, overwhelmed by numbers, sullenly gave way.
Stephen, forgetful of his wounds, leaped forward with the flag, and we all followed, panting like hounds with the quarry in sight.
Count Beula, who had fought his way well to the front without receiving a scratch, ran with the main body; but in front of every one was my brother, with Sándor and myself next, and the wounded Rakoczy a foot or so behind.
The flag danced and waved in the reddening dawn; then suddenly it fell, rising again the next instant as proudly as before, but now, alas! stained with newly-shed blood.
The Croats, as if ashamed of retreating--though they had little cause for shame--once more drew together, and those who had loaded rifles fired into the midst of us.
A few men fell, but they were mere drops in the ocean. The crowd closed up solid and compact as before, and it was seen that the enemy had made their final effort.
A wild cheer greeted the hoisting of a white flag on the summit of the citadel; a wilder one still was raised when Stephen planted the glorious red, white, and green colours beside it.
My loved brother stood there a few moments, his face white, save where the red blood trickled, his eyes bright and burning, his bearing proud and defiant.
But, alas! I saw that he held the staff with effort, and, climbing up, was just in time to catch his swaying body as it fell.
"Dear old George!" he murmured, "I meant to do it, and succeeded."
Then his eyes closed, his head sank, and I laid him gently on the ground in the shadow of the flag he had borne to victory.
The noise of the conflict ceased. The Croats, yielding their arms, were granted quarter, and marched off as prisoners. Buda was ours!
I heard later how fearful the struggle had been. Of the twenty-five guns near the breach but one remained of service, and near the spot where we forced an entrance lay a group of no less than thirty-six Austrian officers.
The foremost was Hentzi himself, who, in the very front of the fight, had gained imperishable renown, both for himself and the flag he had so stubbornly defended.
Many hard words had been said of him when, lying out on the hillside, we had watched our beautiful Pesth half ruined by his artillery; but he had fought and died like a brave soldier and loyal subject of his emperor.
These things were far enough from my mind on the morning of the storming; in fact, I forgot all else in tending my wounded brother.
Several men came and looked at him sorrowfully. Rakoczy was one, I know; and I believe, but am not sure, that one was Count Beula.
Then a little group approached, the leader being a surgeon, who stooping down shook his head in grief.
The others brought water and bandages, and he washed away the blood, leaving the face wan and colourless. Then he loosened my brother's jacket, uttering a hasty exclamation at sight of something beneath.
I sat stupid with grief beside the wounded lad, nothing rousing me till I beheld the closely-cropped hair and rugged features of General Görgei.
"My poor boy!" said he, in a tone soft and caressing as a woman's. "Stephen, don't you know me? I am Arthur Görgei. Look at me, my dear young friend," and he gently chafed my brother's hand.
At the general's words Stephen opened his eyes, and looked at Görgei with a feeble smile.
"It's--all--right--general," he murmured very softly, and his eyes closed again.
Görgei stooped and kissed the boyish face tenderly.
"As gallant a youth as ever fought for Hungary, and worthy of his honourable name!" said he with deep feeling.
Then, turning to me, he spoke some kindly words, and, having questioned the surgeon privately, went his way.
The master of legions has little time for private griefs; and indeed this visit to my brother, taking place as it did before anything else was done, furnished matter for much talk in the army.
When the general had gone, the surgeon came to me. He had a pleasant face, and the horrors of war had failed to blunt the natural kindness of his heart.
"Captain Botskay," he began, "this is a very sad event; but you must be brave, and nerve yourself to bear the blow. Your brother is seriously hurt--so seriously indeed that I dare not venture to move him."
"Do you mean he is dying?" I asked hoarsely.
"One ought never to despair," he answered; "and yet I cannot hold out false hopes to you. Only a miracle, my poor boy, can save your brother's life. I have done what I can for him. He is not in pain, but his wounds are fatal. It may not be for an hour or two, but certainly he cannot live through the day."
"Thank you," I said simply, turning again to my task of watching.
At the end of an hour some one placed an open flask in my hand, saying, "Drink, my sweet master; it will keep up your strength."
It was Mecsey Sándor who had brought me food and drink.
I shook my head.
"I cannot take it," I said.
The faithful fellow insisted.
"You are weak, my sweet master," he urged. "In a little time you will become faint for want of food, you will grow delirious, and perhaps just then the captain will ask for you."
I stretched out my hand for the food eagerly, alarmed by Sándor's suggestion, as the worthy fellow intended I should be.
It must have done me good, though I ate and drank mechanically, hardly knowing, indeed, what I did.
The morning passed very slowly. Twice the kind-hearted surgeon returned; but, as he had said, nothing could be done--we had only to wait for the end.
Towards the middle of the afternoon I discovered Rakoczy standing near me.
He had been badly wounded, and his proper place was in the hospital; but, like a stanch friend, he had come directly his hurts were dressed to share my grief.
"Is there no hope?" he asked.
I shook my head. "The surgeon says he will die before the day is out."
"Poor old Stephen!"
That was all--not a long rigmarole of words, but just a few that came from his heart.
Then we sat and watched the dying lad in silence. Even now the pain I felt was more like that caused by a horrid nightmare than by a proper understanding of the truth.
Could this swathed and bandaged figure really be my bonny brother--he who so short a time back was full of life, and hope, and energy?
So motionless he lay, so still, that I frequently pressed my lips to his to find if he still breathed.
Had it been possible, I would willingly have changed places with him; for Stephen had ever been the object of my fondest love.
"George!"
The sound almost brought the tears to my eyes, it was so feeble, and recalled so vividly the memory of our childhood.
I gazed lovingly into the dear face, already taking the hue of death.
"I am dying, George, but don't grieve for me. With a good conscience, death is not hard, and I have tried to do my duty. Our father is smiling on me, and I am content. Is that Rakoczy? Dear old friend! True as steel! Is it evening? My sight is dim. Closer, brother; let me feel you. Ah!"
I thought he had drawn his last breath, but presently he rallied.
"Rakoczy," he said very feebly, "good-bye! Tell the general. Remember me sometimes. What's that? John, you are weeping! 'John the Joyous' in tears--and for me? Good-bye, brother; God bless you."
I placed my arm tenderly round his neck, and kissed him. I could not make answer in any other way; the words choked in my throat.
Just at the last he whispered,--
"George, stand by Görgei. He is the true patriot."
As we bent over him, he smiled at us with infinite tenderness; then his eyes closed, and his breathing became hard; he tried to speak, but only one word escaped his lips, and that so faint we could not tell if it were my name or the general's.
Rakoczy touched my arm.
"God has taken your brother to Himself!" he exclaimed solemnly.
I heard him in a dazed way, and with true thoughtfulness he retired, leaving me alone to battle with my grief.
I will not dwell upon the despair that wellnigh overwhelmed me. There are secrets of the heart that one does not betray even to the dearest of friends; but all who have lost some loved one will readily enter into my sufferings.
When Rakoczy returned, I wiped away my tears and stood up, ready, though my heart was nearly breaking, to act in a manner worthy of him who had gone from me.
The general, who, since the opening of the campaign, had grown very fond of my brother, gave orders that he should have a grand military funeral, and assisted at the ceremony himself.
We wrapped the dead lad in the flag he had carried so bravely to the front, and buried him on the very spot where he fell.
They told me afterwards that Count Beula was there to show respect to his late opponent; but I did not see him, and had no wish to do so.
I cannot pretend that Stephen was blameless in the matter, but, rightly or wrongly, I looked on the count as being partly responsible for my brother's death, and hated him.
The last volley was fired, the band struck up a spirited air, the troops marched off the ground, and after a while I was left alone to indulge my grief at the side of the newly-made grave.
CHAPTER XVI.
I JOIN THE STAFF.
The fortress of Buda fell on the twenty-second of May. It was now the fifth of June, and the twin cities, though sorely scarred by the terrible bombardments, had dressed themselves in gala costume.
All the troops--the 9th Honveds amongst them--stationed in the two towns were assembled under arms; and the men of the artillery on both sides of the Danube stood to their guns.
A glance at the streets, however, showed that the citizens did not anticipate any fighting.
The scene was a most animated one, and under happier circumstances I should doubtless have enjoyed the brilliant spectacle. Hundreds of gay flags--the red, white, and green stripes predominant--fluttered from the cupolas of the buildings; arches of garlands stretched across the streets; the people, dressed in their best finery, and many of them carrying splendid bouquets, promenaded to and fro, or occupied good positions from which to view the coming pageant.
All along the route from the railway station the windows were crowded by richly-dressed ladies and children, craning their necks to catch the first sight of the hero.
As our regiment marched to take its place, I could not help thinking of the many ruined families and the hundreds of wounded soldiers to whom this pageant must seem little more than a hollow mockery.
"I don't think this triumphal entry shows good taste on his part," I remarked to Dobozy, after we had halted.
"Suit him capitally!" declared he. "It's just like a stage-play. Did you hear how he is coming from Szolnok?"
"By rail, I suppose."
"Yes, and in the emperor's private carriage. Anything's good enough for a thorough-paced republican."
"I suppose his wife accompanies him?"
Dobozy laughed and said we should see.
Suddenly the guns roared out their brazen welcome; the people, waving their flags, cheered loudly; the bands played Rakotzy's patriotic march, and a company of guards issued from the station. Then the cheering became louder and wilder, and shouts of "Elijen Kossuth!" rose as Count Karoly's handsome chariot, drawn by four magnificent Hungarian horses, made its appearance. In it, his head crowned with laurel, sat the observed of all beholders, Louis Kossuth, Dictator of Hungary, and on his right a tall, haughty-looking woman with black hair and eyes, pointed nose, long chin, and regular mouth.
This was the dictator's wife, Madame Theresa Kossuth, and I thought, though perhaps wrongly, that the light in her eyes was one of satisfied pride.
Behind the chariot rode a long line of Magyar nobles, making a brilliant show in their national costume, though, for the country's sake, I would rather have seen them at the front in simple uniform.
As Dobozy truly remarked, patriotism required very little sacrifice if it was satisfied by riding about the streets of the capital in gala attire.
However, the procession passed, the hero was withdrawn from sight, and we were at liberty to return to barracks.
The festivities continued all day, and in the evening the city was illuminated in honour of the dictator.
"Foolish people!" said the colonel sadly, as we strolled along the river-bank that night. "One would think, to see their transports, that the war is over, while it is really only beginning."
"I can't understand why the general doesn't make a forward move, and drive the enemy out of Presburg."
"Because he's waiting for ammunition and men," put in Dobozy, who was walking with us. "I saw Juranics yesterday--just come from the front, wounded in some outpost affair, I believe. He says only half the recruits have been sent on, and they don't even know their drill. Besides, they haven't any weapons, if they knew how to use them. Lively sort of army, eh? Juranics said plainly he believed Kossuth's party was jealous of Görgei's success."
"They're afraid he'll topple their brand-new republic over," said the colonel; "which is just what he would do if the Austrians were cleared out. However, it's too late now. While we've been wasting our time, the enemy has been getting ready."
"They say we shall have 160,000 Russians, besides the Austrians, to tackle."
"That's so," replied the colonel cheerfully; "while we are split up into two factions, each fighting for a different object."
Matters were, indeed, in a more desperate state than we thought. The Austrians, thoroughly frightened for the safety of the empire, had begged the assistance of Russia.
They had already twice changed their chief, and were now led by Baron Haynau, an officer who had won distinction in several campaigns, but whose name was hereafter to be linked with acts of savage cruelty against which all Europe cried out in horror. He was now at Presburg with 60,000 men, waiting for the arrival of a veteran Russian division, which had been dispatched to his assistance.
The principal Russian army, 76,000 strong, and led by the famous field-marshal, Paskewitch, was in Galicia, ready to descend on Central Hungary by way of the Carpathians. A third Russian army was to invade Transylvania, while Jellachich covered Croatia.
However, there were gay doings in Pesth for one day at least, and when we turned in at night the city was stillen fête.
I think it was the third evening after Kossuth's triumphal reception when the colonel sent word that he wished to see me. Being off duty, I returned with the messenger, little dreaming how great a change in my prospects the next half-hour would produce.
"Come in," cried Rakoczy pleasantly, as I knocked at the door.
He was standing by the window overlooking the barrack-yard with another man, whom I immediately recognized as Görgei.
"All well?" cried the general genially, stretching out his hand. "That's right. Bit tedious hanging about Pesth, eh?"
"I think we should all be glad of a change, general."
"You'll all get one soon, when the white-coats drive you out, and even then you'll grumble--eh, colonel?" and he gave Rakoczy a playful dig in the ribs.
"We'd much rather help you get inside Vienna," replied the colonel.
The general's smile vanished.
"Too late!" he said shortly. "That should have been done a month ago. Take my word for it, old comrade, the game is lost; but we'll play it right out all the same, and only give in when we must.--Botskay, can you ride?"
"Fairly well," I answered, not wishing to boast.
"Would you like to come with me?"
"The general means on his staff," explained Rakoczy, smiling.
Now, I should have liked this very much indeed, but for leaving Rakoczy, and this made me hesitate.
The colonel, seeing my difficulty, laughed, and said,--
"I'll answer for him, general. The berth will suit him capitally. The campaign has made him pretty hardy, and he'll soon learn to do without sleep."
"Well," said the general kindly, laying his hand on my shoulder, "I shall be glad to have you. I was very fond of your brother, and miss him more than you would think. So just pack up anything you may want. I'm leaving by the steamer in an hour."
I hurried to my room and called for Mecsey, who received the order to pack without betraying the least surprise. He would have taken it quite as a matter of course had I been appointed commander-in-chief.
Then I went to say farewell to the officers of my regiment, had a last chat with Dobozy, who was sorry to lose me, and finally returned to the colonel's room.
"Good-bye, George," exclaimed my old friend warmly. "Sorry we're parting, but it will be better for you. Besides, we shall often see each other, and the war can't last long. From what the general tells me, we haven't the slightest chance. His army's in a wretched state, and the other leaders are all pulling different ways. However, we must keep our heads up and do the best we can; but don't take too many risks, my boy. Görgei will keep you well occupied, and there's no sense in knocking your head against a stone wall just for the fun of the thing."
"Not a bit!" cried the general, coming in at the moment, "even if you have a wooden one. Well, good-bye, old fellow. We shall soon begin to move now, one way or the other. Get the regiment into trim as soon as you can; every man will be wanted.--Ready, Botskay? Come on then."
Rakoczy pressed my hand, and accompanied us to the gates, where Sándor was already in waiting.
With another warm hand-shake we left the colonel, and walked sharply to the embankment.
Görgei had thrown an ample grey mantle over his sombre uniform, and had pulled his hat over his brow as if not particularly wishing to be recognized.
He did not speak till we reached the landing-place, where a boat lay with steam up, ready to cast off at a moment's notice.
"Jump aboard," he exclaimed sharply. Then, to a sailor, "Help this man with the baggage. Are you right?--Go ahead, captain."
The ropes were cast off, as I could tell by the movements of the steamer, but it was now too dark to see much.
Görgei disappeared, while I, going to the bow of the boat, gazed ahead into the gloom.
Here and there a light shining from the river's bank roused my interest for the moment; but taking it altogether, it was dreary work, and I thought regretfully of the snug barracks.
Presently, however, Görgei joined me, and in his company I lost all sense of weariness and discomfort.
Though burdened by such a load of care, and ready at any moment to assume the sternness of the chief, he laughed and joked with me as if we were equals, his cheerful gaiety making the time pass quite pleasantly.
Indeed the general was a splendid companion, but he had two foibles--he thought sleep was a mistake, and eating a luxury one should try to do without.
With these opinions I did not altogether hold, so I inwardly blessed the captain of the boat when he suggested we should go below and have a snack of supper.
Having made a good meal, I wrapped myself up warmly and lay down, leaving Görgei poring over some maps and making calculations.
I cannot say what occurred during the night, but when I awoke next morning the general was still intent on his work and looking fresh as ever.
About mid-day the steamer slowed down; a boat was lowered, into which Sándor put my baggage; then Görgei got in, and we followed.
We were not near any town, but the general had evidently made his arrangements, for as the sailors pulled us ashore, a body of soldiers--some on foot, others on horseback--came down to the water's edge.
Görgei sprang out briskly, and held a hurried conversation with the leader of the party. Then he directed a soldier to give me his horse, mounted his own--a beautiful grey--and we all set off for headquarters.
The appearance of the army confirmed my feeling of despondency. The men who had served throughout the campaign were in good trim, but those newly drafted to make up for our previous losses looked anything but soldiers.
I discovered, too, that the officers were secretly uneasy, and their anxiety increased when, a few days after my arrival, Görgei's scouts brought word that a Russian division had joined Haynau at Presburg.
This was on the fourteenth of June, and two days later witnessed the beginning of what may be called the second campaign.
Our engineers had built several bridges over the river Waag, and on the fifteenth of June the army crossed to the farther side.
"Ah!" exclaimed one of my new comrades regretfully, "if we could have done this a month ago!"
"We should be in Vienna now," said another gaily; "but we aren't, and it's no use grumbling. Here comes Bethlen. Klapka has sent him with an important message, to judge by the state of his horse's flanks."
The rider approached at a gallop, pulled his horse up sharply, and having saluted, handed a note to Görgei.
The general, glancing at the contents, put the crumpled paper into his pocket.
"Tell General Klapka I'm much obliged, but I don't think anything serious will happen to-morrow."
Bethlen saluted again, nodded to several of his acquaintances, and rode away at a quieter pace.
Görgei had made his calculations accurately, and although several desperate outpost affairs occurred, it was not until the morning of the seventeenth that the two armies really joined battle.
On the very same date, although we did not know it then, Field-Marshal Paskewitch emerged from the Carpathians on his march into Central Hungary.
The battle began with a terrible artillery fire, which was directed against our centre; and Görgei himself, followed by the staff, galloped down to encourage the sorely-tried soldiers.
At the same time he sent me to the colonel of a hussar regiment with an order to break up a mass of infantry, which was preparing to hurl itself on our weakened centre.
"Directly it's done, ride back as hard as you can," he said, and I dashed off.
The colonel listened to the order, well pleased.
"Tell the general we will do it," he said with quiet confidence.
"He wishes me to stay and take back your report," I answered, and the colonel kindly agreed that I should ride with him.
The regiment was composed of seasoned warriors, who hailed the sound of the trumpet with delight.
With swords bared, we started at a trot, increasing the pace as we approached the enemy.
The ground for the most part was flat, but there were several sandhills or banks, and from one of these a storm of shot ploughed into us as we rode by.
The fire was so severe and unexpected that a regiment of young soldiers would have been thrown into confusion; but these veterans only shook their fists, vowing to capture the battery on their return.
Our horses had got into their stride now, and we were fairly racing over the level ground.
It was the first time I had taken part in a cavalry charge, and the blood ran hot in my veins.
The colonel rode upright as a dart and stiff as a poker, but I, more accustomed to a horse's back on the broad plains than in a military riding-school, rode in a much easier though less dignified position.
That men and horses were thoroughly well drilled one glance would have shown. In spite of the artillery fire and the speed at which we rode, there were no gaps. The horses raced neck by neck, with equal strides, and the whole regiment went forward like a piece of machinery.
The Austrian battalions stood quite firm to receive us, and as we got nearer I doubted very much if we could break through that solid mass.
But Görgei had not sent us to do the work alone. On our left, farther down the field, several squadrons, springing up unexpectedly, were riding straight at the battalions, and we, seeing this, cheered excitedly.
"Forward!" shouted the colonel, rising in his stirrups, "and keep together!"
Whatever was going on elsewhere, the Austrians before us stood like a stone wall till we were well within range. Then came a blinding flash, a loud report, a greyish cloud of smoke, and, from behind me, fierce shouts and cries of pain.
But above all rang out the stirring "Forward!" of the colonel, and almost at the same instant we were amongst the bayonets.
Crash! we went, driving into the very centre of the mass, splitting it up into groups, pushing it this way and that, till a ringing cheer announced that the enemy were in full flight.
The hussars, flushed and excited, would have gone pell-mell in pursuit, but fortunately the leader had his men well in hand, and made them re-form their ranks.
Our comrades farther along the field, carried away by excitement, dashed after the runaways, and were soon widely scattered.
Then, through a gap in the sandhills beyond, there suddenly issued a close, compact body of cavalry, which charged down upon us like an avalanche.
Our horses were already blown; we ourselves were spent by the fierce fight; our losses had been severe, and many of the men still in the ranks were wounded; yet the colonel did not hesitate.
Flight would result in our being cut to pieces; to stand still would give the enemy a tremendous advantage; there was nothing for it but to charge afresh.
The colonel, waving his sword, sprang to the front; the bugles rang out; the men, cheering loudly, dug their spurs into their horses' flanks. Once more the regiment was in motion.
The distance to be covered was short, but enough to get our animals well into their stride before the crash came.
Fast as we rode, the Austrians rode still faster; and, but for the superior strength of the Hungarian horses, we should simply have been swept away by the furious shock.
As it was, we charged them gallantly, and soon steel met steel as swords crossed or rang on the polished breast-plates.
Our colonel--evidently a magnificent swordsman, and mounted on a powerful animal--drove his way through the serried ranks; but my passage was barred by the Austrian leader, who seemed to have singled me out specially.
I wondered at this for a moment; then in a flash remembered who this handsome, blue-eyed fellow was.
"Von Theyer!" rose to my lips as, sitting his horse with a natural gracefulness, the former rebel rode straight at me.
From that moment I lost sight of the general conflict.
Round us rose the cries and groans of wounded men, the cheers and counter-cheers of the combatants, the sound of clashing swords; but to all I gave but a passing thought.
This Von Theyer, who by some means--probably reckless bravery--had already risen high in the Austrian service, meant to kill me.
His deadly purpose shone in his eyes, and it was obvious he expected to have an easy task.
However, though he was by far the better master of the sword, I knew the more of horsemanship, and by swerving aside at the proper moment, caused his stroke to fail.
Before he recovered I had pricked him in the arm. It was a slight wound, but it drew blood and made him angry.
This was all in my favour, as he lost his caution, and, throwing away the advantage of his superior skill, attacked furiously.
Again and again I avoided his weapon almost by a miracle; but at last I made a fierce cut which he failed to parry, and my sword slashed him right across the face.
He threw up his hands with a cry of pain, falling in a heap on his horse's back.
At the same instant a shout of alarm was raised; the hussars in advance, wheeling about, came dashing back, separating me from Von Theyer.
Since I had left Görgei the aspect of the battle had entirely changed.
While we had broken the Austrian battalions, our centre, fearfully weakened by a heavy cannonade from twenty-four guns, and furiously assailed by two brigades on its right flank, had given way.
Worse still, the Russian general, seeing that the tide was turning, sent a splendid body of cuirassiers and two field-batteries to change the retreat into rout.
It was the rapid approach of these famous horsemen that made us turn back.
The colonel was angry, but he could not hope to pit his broken regiment successfully against the cuirassiers, while a prompt retreat might enable him to cover the flight of the infantry.
So he gave the word, and we retired in good order, but at a gallop.
Meanwhile the Austrian gunners received their allies with a roar of welcome, and the cuirassiers in glittering helmets and breastplates swept proudly on.
With a message from the colonel, I made the best of my way to the chief, who as usual was in the thick of the fight, risking his life as freely as the humblest soldier.
But the day was lost. We were outnumbered both in men and guns, and the Russian division had converted a possible victory into a disastrous defeat.
For a time we made a desperate attempt to hold the village of Pered, but it was simply throwing men's lives away to no purpose; and at length the general, who, however much he objected to be beaten, did not believe in knocking his head against the wall, issued orders for a retreat.
"Find General Klapka," said he to me, "and tell him to withdraw his men across the Waag; but he must do his best to hold the bridges. If he doesn't, the enemy will chase us back to Pesth without a stop."
I turned my horse's head, and dashed off along the line of fire; but time being precious, I could not afford to go a long way round.