CHAPTER XVII.THE WOUNDING OF GÖRGEI."All right, Sándor. It's only a pin-prick; but I've had it bandaged, though the surgeon said 'twas a waste of lint. Rub the horse down, and give it a good feed; there may be fresh work soon."The battle was over. The army, including Klapka's division, had retired beyond the river, though we still held possession of the bridges. I had just returned from my dangerous ride, and the worthy Sándor had given me up for lost.I was dead tired, and wrapping myself up cosily, lay down, expecting to fall asleep instantly.In this I was wrong, for though my eyes closed, I could not make my brain rest.I thought of my chivalrous brother lying wrapped in his country's flag in the citadel at Buda; I thought, too, of the gallant Rakoczy at Pesth, and wished the old regiment had been in the field that day; but, most of all, my mind dwelt upon the Austrian leader with whom I had been in deadly conflict.The hussars had retreated too quickly for me to find out if I had killed him.Somehow I hoped the poor fellow was not dead; though, had the case been reversed, I suppose he would not have wasted a thought on me.From Von Theyer my mind naturally drifted to the beautiful Theresa, and I wondered how she had borne the news of her bereavement.At least it would be some comfort when I could restore the baron's memento, and tell how we had buried him in the quiet little churchyard.My heart grew sadder and sadder as I lingered over the details of this cruel war, which the day's fighting conclusively showed we could not carry to a successful issue.It was not that a single defeat caused me to despair, but I saw clearly that we had thrown away our chance of victory.Against the Austrians alone we might even now recover our position, but the arrival of the Russians had made the struggle hopeless.Even united we should fail now, and we were not united. Envy, jealousy, and distrust had crept into our councils, and every day the breach between the two parties became wider.Not that I would have you imagine there was more than one party in Görgei's army. We were all of one mind; but the general was hampered by the orders of the Diet, and in addition had to shape his course by the movements of Dembinski.Thinking over these things, I lay awake till the dawn, when I at last managed to fall into a sound and refreshing slumber.The days following our defeat at Waag were days of extreme misery. All the time we fell back, pressed by Haynau's victorious troops and their Russian allies, till we reached Raab.Even here Görgei could do no more than make a feint of defending the place, which delayed the enemy two or three days, while our main army pushed on towards Waitzen.I now understood more clearly the kind of life Stephen had enjoyed.Görgei was here, there, and everywhere, directing and encouraging the men, and of course we were with him.We slept where and when we could, and did not expect dainties--to any great extent, at least--at meal-times. Our banquets were for the most part consumed in the saddle, and consisted of bread or biscuit, cheese, and a drink of wine.Occasionally the cheese went astray and the wine was missing; then we munched our bread thankfully, and praised the sweetness of the water.Görgei's spirits never once gave way, though I believe that from the hour of turning our backs on the river Waag he knew in his heart the contest was hopeless.Careful of his men, he was utterly reckless of his own safety, and several times during the retreat his staff were within an ace of being cut off.Our old opponent Schlick led the pursuit, being well supported by the veteran Russian division which had caused our defeat on the Waag.On the morning of the third of July Görgei halted his troops in the forest of Harkaly.During the previous night he and I, unknown to almost every one, had retraced our steps as far as the village of Acz, which we found occupied in force by the Austrians.Having by good-luck managed to return safely, the general spent the rest of the night making plans for striking a blow at the dogged Schlick, who seemed to be ever-lastingly hanging on our rear.I do not know if any one else on the staff went to bed, but I lay down for an hour in the morning, and was wakened by Sándor just before the combat began.Some of the troops were sent on ahead, where they could be seen by the enemy; while the main body of infantry, with the guns, had been secretly posted in advantageous positions.The first blow was to be struck by the cavalry, and the various regiments presented a magnificent sight as they waited in the cover of the forest for the word to advance.The mere notion of a fight had restored the men's spirits. They might be beaten again, but anything was better than the continual running away we had practised for the last fortnight.Görgei, alert and vigorous, had placed himself at the head; and though we feared for his life, it was impossible not to admire his courage.He had sent me with a message to General Klapka, and while returning I caught a glimpse of Schlick's corps moving up from Acz through the open country.Our decoys had served their purpose, and the Austrians, thinking us still in full retreat, swung along merrily.I hastened to the general, and from the look on his face guessed he had already heard the news."Yes," said he; "it's working out nicely. We'll give Herr Schlick a little surprise presently."And we did.The affair was over so quickly that I hardly realized it had begun.At the word of command we issued from the forest, broke into a trot, then a gallop, finally bursting with a loud cheer upon the astonished foe.The surprise was complete. Before they had time to make a stand they were running away.Hatless, but unhurt, Görgei pulled up; sent Nicholas Szondi with an order to Klapka; ordered the pursuit to be continued as far as the village of Acz; and rising in his stirrups, took a further survey of the field."Botskay," said he quickly, "we must have half a dozen guns planted on those sandhills. See them? Off you go, then, to Benitzky, and don't lose a second."I put my horse to the gallop, and having found the chief of artillery, delivered my message, and rode back.At this moment the day was ours. Schlick's corps was routed, our fellows were hot in pursuit, and a few enthusiasts were already dreaming of Vienna.But we reckoned without the Russians.Before our artillery could get there, the sandhills were occupied by Russian guns, whose murderous fire sent our cavalry back.At the same time our cuirassiers dashed forward on the right, and then we saw a body of infantry advancing at the double.In half an hour the situation had become critical. Nothing could save us but the most desperate effort.Our general, as usual, rose to the occasion. Placing himself in front of the hussars, he delivered a short but stirring address, and led them against the Russian infantry.Twice we dashed at them in gallant style, being thrown back each time; the third time, we resolved, should pay for all.Nicholas Szondi and I rode on either side of the general, who once more gave the word to charge.Away we went in the midst of a cloud of bullets, while our ranks were ploughed by shot and shell.A man somewhere behind me dropped, and his frightened horse, breaking from the ranks, rushed to the front.With a cry of pain the colonel of the regiment fell, but I afterwards heard that the gallant fellow used what strength he had left to urge on his men.Crash! It seemed too good to be true, but we really had driven the charge home; and the riderless horse, the first to make a gap, was lashing out furiously with its heels.Görgei was the first man inside, but Nicholas Szondi and I followed closely, while it seemed as if the whole regiment was treading on our heels.The Muscovite soldiers fought gallantly enough, but I think they would not have lasted other ten minutes, when a terrible misfortune happened to us.The general, as I before remarked, was fighting like a common trooper, and several Muscovites had already felt the weight of his arm, when, suddenly slipping from his saddle, he fell to the ground.Instantly I jumped down and ran to him, while Szondi and Mecsey Sándor, who, unknown to me, had joined in the charge, kept off a crowd of foot-soldiers.I raised Görgei in my arms. His face was covered with blood; he was quite insensible, or dead.A trooper came to my assistance, and between us we lifted him to his saddle.All this time Nicholas Szondi and Sándor fought like demons in order to preserve breathing space, and by the time we got the general on his horse they were joined by several others.The trooper held Görgei while I remounted, then Szondi joined me, and between us we cut our way through the press.The news of the disaster quickly spread, and the hussars, disheartened by the loss of our gallant leader, drew off from the fight.On the other hand, the Muscovites, imbued with fresh spirit, redoubled their efforts; the infantry resumed their advance, firing volley after volley into our retreating ranks.Görgei made neither sound nor movement. He sat huddled up just as we placed him, and but for our support would have fallen helpless.Szondi looked at me questioningly, but I shook my head. It was impossible for either of us to tell the extent of the mischief.We rode fast till we were out of the line of fire, and I then suggested to my comrade that he should seek Klapka."He is in command now," I said, "and should be told at once."Szondi nodded, and asked if I could manage alone; but the faithful Mecsey, who was close behind, volunteered to take his place.This he did; and while Szondi galloped off to find Klapka, we proceeded with the general.Everywhere now the battle was over, and the Muscovites had again saved their allies from destruction.But our men retreated in fairly good order, and it was evident that, although Görgei had fallen, the army still possessed a capable chief.Halfway through the forest the surgeons had set up an ambulance, and thither we took the general."Görgei?" cried the chief surgeon, when I told him what had occurred."Here, Moritz! Take him gently--so. Now let us see. Plenty of blood, at all events. Bring me some water. Open his jacket, Moritz, and see if the heart beats. Yes? That takes a load off my mind. Now to find the wound. Ah! I thought so.--Don't look so scared, Captain Botskay: the general will be all right in a fortnight or so. The blow has made him senseless for a time, but there ought not to be any real danger. I would let the soldiers know, if I were you; 'twill raise their spirits."I started at once to find General Klapka, and on the way spread the welcome intelligence far and wide.The men cheered as heartily as if we had gained a brilliant victory; for they looked on Görgei not only as a general, but as a personal friend, and there were few amongst them who would not willingly have given their lives to save his.General Klapka was busy directing the retreat, but he found time to question me closely about his wounded chief, and was unaffectedly glad on hearing the surgeon's report."Görgei is just the one man Hungary cannot afford to lose," he said in his mild way, and turned again to his duties.Having failed to stop the pursuit, the only course open to us now was to fall back upon the entrenched camp before Comorn, and this Klapka at once set about doing.By nightfall we had completely abandoned the forest of Acz, and the vanguard had taken up a strong position several miles eastward.I did not see Görgei again till the last man had turned into the camp at Comorn, as Klapka kept me pretty busy during the march; but I heard from time to time he was progressing favourably, and that the doctors had no doubt of his recovery.It was strange to see him lying in his tent, his head bandaged, his face white and bloodless, his body still."Ah, Botskay!" said he, smiling, when I went in the first time, "I have to thank you. Szondi's been here and told me all about it. Lucky for me that I took you away from Rakoczy, eh?""Szondi had as much to do with it as I, general--more, in fact, for he kept the Russians off while I picked you up. There's a trooper, too, who--""Klapka saw to him--made him a sergeant. There's your man as well; what of him? Would he like to have the stripes?"I shook my head smilingly. To be a sergeant, Mecsey would have to leave me, and this I was sure he would not do."Never mind!" exclaimed the general. "I'll find some means of doing him a good turn. He's a fine fellow, and not over free with his tongue. Well, it seems likely you'll soon meet Rakoczy again.""Is the old regiment coming to join us?" I asked eagerly."No," said he; "but we are rapidly making our way back to Pesth," and he looked at me with a faint smile."We shall turn westward again soon," I exclaimed; but he shook his head with the air of a man who had no wish to disguise the truth from himself.The very morning after this conversation a rumour crept through the camp, though no one seemed able to trace its origin, that Field-Marshal Paskewitch, driving Moritz Perczel's troops before him like a flock of sheep, had entered Debreczin in triumph. In the men's presence the truth of the story was contemptuously scouted, but before night the officers of the staff were made aware that for once rumour had not lied.The great Russian army, under its famous chief, had captured Kossuth's stronghold--the headquarters of Hungarian republicanism.This was a serious blow, and I did not wonder that our leaders looked grave.With Paskewitch at Debreczin, and Haynau forcing us back upon Pesth, we were awkwardly placed, the more especially as we could only look to ourselves for help.But this peril was absolutely trivial compared with the astounding information that Nicholas Szondi brought me one morning. I had been out all night seeking news of the enemy's movements, and was breakfasting alone, when my new crony joined me."Glad to see you busy," he said chaffingly.I finished the steaming coffee made by the worthy Sándor, and nodded."General better this morning?" I asked."Much. Able to walk about and give directions. Can't ride yet, though; can't stand the jolting. Going to have another smack at the Austrians in a day or two--at least that's what he intended; but I suppose it won't come off now.""Why not?" I asked curiously."Ah!" exclaimed my comrade eagerly, "I thought you hadn't heard the news. Count Beula's in the camp.""Well?""Comes from the Diet, or Kossuth--one and the same thing, I fancy--with a letter or proclamation, or whatever you call it. Expected to find Dembinski here, it appears.""You make a first-class story-teller, Szondi, only you're in such a dreadful hurry to get to the end. Still, the narrative's wonderfully exciting, so far.""Keep your chaff, old fellow. You'll find the finish exciting enough.""There is an end then? That's something to be thankful for."Szondi took no notice of the interruption, but continued steadily,--"This Count Beula, then, arrived last night, expecting to find the Pole; but of course we knew nothing of Dembinski.""Not likely.""He made himself very agreeable, and we had a pleasant evening.""While I was sitting on my horse's back for hours, like a dummy!""Well," said Szondi, without even a smile, "that wouldn't be such hard work--for you.""Not half as difficult as listening to this story.""The story? Ah! I'm just coming to the climax. What do you think was in the letter that Beula brought for Dembinski?""One of Kossuth's brand-new bank-notes.""Don't talk rubbish, Botskay. The letter is an official document proclaiming Dembinski commander-in-chief, in succession to Arthur Görgei, deposed.""What?""Thought you'd get interested at the finish," said he, laughing harshly."How have they wrapped it up?""You may be sure they've sugared the pill nicely. His wound's the excuse, and he's to be made war minister, or something of that sort."We looked hard at each other, and I saw my own thoughts reflected in Szondi's eyes."All right," said he. "I can tell we're both in one mind, and we'll find a good many others to join us.""All the staff for certain.""And every man in the army. Dembinski, indeed!""What does Klapka say?""He'll stick to Görgei through thick and thin; so will Nagy Sándor. I'm off now. See you again this evening, and tell you more about it."Szondi's news soon spread amongst the officers, causing the greatest consternation.To remove Görgei was to take away the very life and soul of the army. To replace him by the Pole would be rank folly.As the day wore on, I became convinced that unless the Diet--or Kossuth, as rightly or wrongly the officers would have it--withdrew the order, there would be mischief.Towards the end of the afternoon Szondi came to take me to a meeting of the staff."The fellows are furious," he said, "and want to sign a paper refusing to serve under any one but Görgei. What's your idea?""I'll put my name down fast enough.""So will the others. Then we'll take it to Klapka, and he'll bring Kossuth, or whoever the mover of the affair is, to reason. Here we are at Mizvy's tent."The discussion which took place was rather monotonous, as every one spoke on the same side, and the keynote was that Görgei should not go.After that Mizvy drew up a counter-proclamation, and I, being the youngest officer present, was invited to sign first, which I did. The others appended their signatures, and then Mizvy was deputed to carry the document to General Klapka, and explain matters."The general is sure to be with us," said one man, "but, if he needs stiffening, tell him there isn't an officer in the army who wouldn't gladly put his name to the paper.""Nor a soldier either," added a second man."That will make some of them draw long faces over at Pesth," said Szondi gaily. "I don't think we shall hear much more of Dembinski as commander-in-chief."Szondi was right. The Diet, interviewed by the two generals, Klapka and Nagy Sándor, saw it had gone too far; and Görgei was restored to his rank, almost without knowing he had been deprived of it. But the more I looked at the incident the less I liked it.Görgei was the great chief to whom all who did not wish separation from Austria looked for guidance; and the attempt to take him from the army showed very clearly the wide gulf between the two sections of the Hungarian nation.Meanwhile, matters were becoming very serious in all parts of the country.In the south, Bern, who seemed to grow stronger after each defeat, still made headway against the enemy, but elsewhere our prospects were cheerless.Field-Marshal Paskewitch was making a military promenade with his army, and it was likely that we should soon be crushed between him and Haynau.Certainly our entrenchments were very strong, and every day--for Görgei had a great belief in pick and spade--made them stronger; but they could not keep out Haynau and the Russians.The chief was still prevented by his wound from riding about; but he had long and anxious talks with Klapka, and it was finally decided we should make one more attempt to defeat the Austrians before Paskewitch could send them help.It was the tenth of July when this decision was made, and none of the staff went to sleep that night till everything had been put in trim for the approaching conflict.CHAPTER XVIII.GÖRGEI FORGETS HIS WOUND."It's make or break to-day, Botskay. Of course we shall keep on fighting, but unless our fellows smash Haynau up our chance is gone."Szondi and I were standing behind Görgei on a piece of rising ground from which we could obtain a view of the battle. The chief's face showed how annoyed he was at having to remain behind, and I nudged my comrade, who shrugged his shoulders."Wound or no wound," he whispered, "if the fight goes against us you'll see him in the thick of it. Look! He's waving his hand to the hussars we charged with the other day. They'd be glad to have him at their head now."Our hearts beat high as the cavalry passed in numerous bodies, our hopes being largely placed on these gallant fellows.Klapka had posted twenty batteries in the forest of Harkaly, and it was his plan, or rather Görgei's, by a combined attack of infantry, horse, and artillery, to break the Austrian centre, and push it back beyond the village of Czern.It was nine o'clock in the morning when the infantry moved out, and very soon we heard the thunder of the heavy guns.This was the beginning; I asked myself what would be the end. The soldiers knew how much depended on their exertions, and I judged by their set faces that the enemy would have all their work cut out to beat them.Görgei stood looking intently through his glass, occasionally giving a smile of satisfaction as the troops took up their positions."It ought to answer," he muttered. "Upon my word, I believe we shall beat them; Klapka's handling his men beautifully. They want more guns, though, on the right. Szondi, tell Benitzky to move some of his guns to the edge of the forest.--Botskay, ride to General Klapka, and wait to see what happens in the centre. Come back the instant he drives the Austrians from the village.--Mizvy, tell Prince Leiningen to hold--"I did not hear the rest, being already on my way to General Klapka.The battle was now in full swing, but the thick volumes of smoke made it difficult to see what was going on.Soon I met wounded men dropping to the rear, and from one of them gathered that the Austrian centre was getting a terrific pounding."They'll have to go, captain," said the man. "Flesh and blood can't stand it much longer."After giving him a drink from my flask, I rode on, finding myself at length amongst Klapka's staff.I delivered my message to the general, who said smilingly, "I don't think you will have long to wait;" and turning to one of his officers, he sent him off somewhere with an order.Everything around me was bustle and excitement. Men came and went in endless succession, and almost without a pause.One young fellow, whose horse's nostrils were laced with foam, dashed up at a gallop, and saluted with his left arm, his right being shattered by a musket-ball.The general said something to him, but he shook his head, smiled gaily, and was off again in spite of his broken limb.Meanwhile the fight in the centre was fast approaching a crisis.That the Austrians would break I felt sure, my only wonder being how they had managed to hold out so long.Shot and shell made gaps in their ranks, a fearful musketry fire swept them away in scores, while hussars and dragoons thundered down upon them almost without intermission.As the wounded Magyar had said, flesh and blood could not stand it much longer, and Klapka's keen eye saw that the critical moment had arrived.Another officer darted off like lightning; and we, looking on, saw our cavalry draw up in one immense body.We could not hear, but we knew they were cheering, and then we watched them move forward.Walk, trot, gallop! It was a superb spectacle as the sun shone down on the beautiful horses, the forest of glittering swords, the lithe and muscular horsemen.We held our breath as they flew over the ground, and in our intense excitement almost felt the shock as they crashed into the enemy.So certain was the result that I asked Klapka's permission to follow, knowing how eager Görgei would be to learn every detail.As I expected, that last charge broke the Austrian centre through and through; and the men who had stood up so bravely against the pick of our army were thoroughly beaten.Back they went, helter-skelter, anyhow--men and guns and horses all mixed together!Here half a company; there part of a squadron; yonder a field-gun, the horses clattering and tearing along like mad.Back they went pell-mell into their lines, into the village, and through it; at which I turned my horse's head, and rode, cheering like a maniac, to Görgei."Make or break," Szondi had said. Well, we were made, and the Austrians were broken.Good little horse! On you go, straight as the crow flies. Never mind obstacles. We'll think of these to-morrow; for we're carrying good news, my beauty.Cheer, my lads! You have the right. There's the general! How pleased he will be at the news!I dashed up, breathless, while my horse trembled all over."Czern is ours, sir!" I panted. "The Austrians are in flight!"There were several officers near, but my head was so dizzy that I could scarcely distinguish them.One, whom I took to be Szondi, then helped me to dismount.The ride, the excitement, and possibly an accidental blow, though I could not remember one, had made me feel quite strange.The men around me became shadowy figures, their conversation mere disjointed scraps, such as, "Klapka--key of position--pay for Acz--Vienna--next to Görgei," which I heard without understanding.Then Szondi put a flask to my lips, and I took a deep draught of something which stopped the shivering in my limbs, and enabled me to stand firm.A messenger had arrived from Klapka. He was telling the story of the Austrian flight, but with more detail, and our general's face beamed with delight.Some of the officers had disappeared; others remained; and these, like the general, were filled with joy.Into the huge gap which I had seen made our fellows were pouring at the double, and the battlefield rang with shouts of victory.I had put my arm through the bridle, and stood leaning against a hillock of sand, waiting for the next order.Suddenly there came the sound of a report so tremendous that the earth shook, and we gazed at one another aghast.Again and again it broke forth, while the field was hidden from sight by dense curtains of thick smoke.At a word from the general Szondi darted off, but almost before he had gone a mounted officer dashed up to us.He came from Klapka, and told his tale briefly.Every man and every gun of the Austrian reserve, every man and every gun of the Russian division, had been flung across the path of our victorious columns.Eighty pieces of cannon were vomiting death; thousands of rifles were pouring deadly volleys into our vanguard.What the Austrians had suffered during the earlier part of the morning our people were suffering now, only on a more fearful scale.Yet we gathered from the messenger that they had not retreated a foot, though it was impossible for them to advance.Our sole hope now lay in Prince Leiningen and the reserve which he commanded.Klapka had already sent to him, and now Szondi returned with the information that the prince was advancing with reckless bravery against the Austrian left.Görgei could no longer contain himself. Go forward he must; go forward he would; and if his wound burst out afresh and killed him, as the doctors feared, well--he would not be the only man to die!I jumped into the saddle and went with the others.The awful cannonade continued without intermission, and every man who had ever seen a battle felt his heart sink at the thought of the havoc it was committing.But we did not altogether ride without hope. Another messenger had found the general to tell him that the gallant Leiningen had broken the Austrian left, and we cheered the news heartily.The story of the fight, as it thus came to us piecemeal, was a succession of ups and downs.Ill news, it is said, travels apace; and hardly had we finished cheering when a fresh officer brought word that the Russians, by a sharp manoeuvre, had trained their guns on our reserve, and were decimating it.Perhaps it was as well that those who forced us to waste those precious weeks before the arrival of the Russians were not on the battlefield outside Comorn.At the Waag, at Acz, and now here, the Muscovites had actually snatched victory from our grasp.As we plunged together into the conflict the soldiers caught sight of their gallant leader, and for a moment ceased fighting, while they rent the air with shouts of "Görgei! Görgei!"Had it been possible to save the battle, the presence of this one man would have accomplished the feat; but it was not.The men died willingly enough, but they could not advance in face of those awful guns.In vain our artillerymen worked at their batteries like slaves, vainly footmen and cavalry threw themselves against the solid mass; they came back every time baffled, broken, and in sadly-diminished numbers.Of my personal share in the fight there is little to tell.Görgei, forgetful of his wound, threw himself into the thick of it, and where he went I followed.Now we charged at the head of a shattered remnant of a cavalry regiment; again we were in the midst of an infantry square, encouraging the men to stand firm; then we were making a desperate attempt on a battery.The staff had their fill of fighting for once, but to no avail.Even Görgei acknowledged the truth at last, and reluctantly gave the order to withdraw.We were fairly beaten, but not routed; and the enemy had been too severely handled to follow up their success.Taking our wounded, we retired slowly, the men, in spite of their terrible punishment, being unwilling to leave the field.I had lost sight of Szondi in the heat of the conflict, but he returned later to the entrenchments unhurt, save for an odd scratch or two of little account.Fortune had dealt less kindly with several of our comrades, and we missed more than one familiar face."That's the worst bout I've ever been in," said Szondi. "I thought at one time not a man would come out alive.""We might as well have stayed out there," said Mizvy gruffly. "The game's up.""Oh, come!" I cried cheerfully. "It surely isn't as bad as that!""Well, my young wiseacre, if you can show me one single loophole, you've more brains than I ever gave you credit for."There was a laugh at this, but Mizvy went on sulkily, "We can't stay here--that's certain; and where are we to go? It will take 20,000 men to garrison Comorn, and what's Görgei to do with the rest? Fight Haynau and Paskewitch together?""There's our army in the south," I began, but Mizvy pulled me up."Army in the south!" he echoed scornfully; "why, Bern, brave old fellow as he is, can hardly hold his own head above water!""But there's Dembinski. He'll make a big effort to join us."Mizvy looked at me with a grin. "Dembinski's off to Szegedin with the Diet," he said. "It's a handy place to slip over into Turkey from, when the crash comes."Several of the officers cried "Shame!" but Mizvy took this mark of displeasure with admirable coolness."All right," he said quietly. "But just wait till any of those fellows venture north.""What then?" I asked, laughing."Why, then you can sew me up in a sack and drop me into any river that's handy!""We'll do that with pleasure," said Szondi. "But there's the general beckoning to you."Mizvy took himself off, but he left an unpleasant sensation behind him.He was a level-headed man, with plenty of shrewd sense, and having no prejudices to warp his judgment.I am not sure that personally he cared the toss of a button for either Görgei or Kossuth, the constitution of '48, or independence; but he was a thorough soldier, and did care very much about beating the enemy.In his eyes, a man's chief if not sole merit lay in his ability to win battles, and I remember hearing him more than once unfold his pet theory about the treatment of generals.Mizvy had little sympathy with unsuccessful leaders, and his scheme would hardly have proved popular amongst men of weak minds; yet, as Szondi often pointed out to scoffers, promotion would become rapid.The foundation of the theory was that no responsible officer should ever be beaten; if he so far forgot himself, the authorities were to have him shot, and give his command to another."Cruel?" growled Mizvy, when a listener offered that objection. "Not half as cruel as the present system. It would soon weed out all the duffers, and the peacocks, whose only idea of soldiering is to strut about in gold lace. Now, here's a fellow--goodness knows where he comes from, but he has influence; give him a brigade, and set him to do something. Back he comes in a day or two with a handful of men; the enemy has accounted for the others. He wouldn't do that trick often, if you shot him the first time. Think a second duffer would want to fill the vacancy? Hardly. None but the best men would try to get the pick of the berths in my army, I can tell you."Mizvy was not exactly popular with his fellows, but he was a man whose opinions claimed some attention, and his remarks concerning our allies were far from comforting.We did not dream for an instant, of course, that any of them would be frightened, but at the same time there were various little matters concerning which we felt doubtful.Nicholas Szondi summed up the case very clearly."There's no question of Bern's courage," he said, "or of Dembinski's either; but we needn't pretend they're in love with Görgei, or he with them. Now, if we joined forces--and that's the only way to save Hungary--we should only want one chief.""Well, Görgei isn't likely to yield his command to the Poles.""Just so; and they won't be too eager to serve under him. That's where the difficulty lies.""If old Mizvy's plan were in working order," said one man lazily, "'twould save a lot of bother at present.""We certainly shouldn't suffer from having too many generals."Szondi agreed laughingly. "Görgei and Klapka look very solemn over there.""They're discussing the new plans, and it's my belief we shall find Mizvy wasn't far out in his forecast."That same night our general told us he had resolved on retreating to Waitzen with a portion of the army, while Klapka, with 76 guns and 18,000 men, was to throw himself into Comorn.I now learned that one Austrian army corps was marching straight on Pesth, from which our troops had withdrawn, and I looked forward with pleasure to again meeting my old friends of the 9th Honved regiment.Since joining the staff I had not heard from Rakoczy, but as there had been no fighting at the capital I concluded he was still alive and well.Early on the morning succeeding the stubborn fight we said farewell to our friends in Klapka's division, and before it was really light began the march.Two days later, having picked up various bodies of troops on the route, we halted a few hours' distance from Waitzen.Here the 9th Honveds were assembled, and as soon as the general had finished with me, I rushed off to find Rakoczy.I really don't know which of us was the more pleased at the meeting, though the genial colonel could not forego his chaff, and pretended it was a great honour to receive a visit from one of the staff. Then he took me into his tent and sent for Dobozy, from whom I had another warm welcome."The accounts from the front frightened us a bit," said Dobozy. "We began to think you would have been better off in Pesth.""Been pretty warm, hasn't it?" asked Rakoczy. "But there, you shall tell us all about it. You must be getting pretty used to playing a losing game by now, eh?""Still, I don't know that I like it any better than at first. By the way, have you seen Count Beula lately?""Cleared out the same time as Kossuth. Paid you a visit at Raab, didn't he?""Yes, with a proclamation from the Diet in his pocket. But I had better begin at the beginning, and tell you the story properly.""Much better. Make yourself comfortable. You may be sure of an interested audience, though a small one."He was right in that remark, for both he and Dobozy listened most attentively, only interrupting by an occasional exclamation."You certainly can't complain of having been dull yonder," said Rakoczy at the finish."Did you kill that Von Theyer fellow?" asked Dobozy."I hope not, though I'm afraid he got a nasty slash across the face.""Pity that, being a handsome sort of chap. 'Twill spoil his beauty.""In that case," said the colonel, "our friend Botskay must take care of himself. This Von Theyer, though a splendid soldier, is vainer than any woman, and he won't easily forgive the man who disfigured him.""Aren't we getting on a bit too fast? The fellow may be dead and buried, for aught I know. When our troopers came back from the Russian guns, they didn't give me too much time for investigation.""That Russian division seems to be the mainstay of the army.""It has been, so far; but now tell me what you've been doing in Pesth.""Putting the regiment straight again," said the colonel."And forming guards of honour," added Dobozy. "We've had a very pleasant and agreeable time.""A wonder you left.""We had such very pressing invitations to leave that the colonel could hardly refuse. The Diet, you know, has gone to Szegedin with the army of the north.""Yes. We heard that.""Well, directly Haynau had you beaten up yonder, he sent an army corps hot-foot for Pesth. At the same time Paskewitch dispatched a Russian corps from the east, and we thought it time to move.""How was it you didn't go south with the others?""Because, fortunately, we had orders to join Görgei here.""Shall we make a stand at Waitzen?"The colonel shook his head. "May stay for a bit of a fight," he replied. "Nothing more.""Then what do you think Görgei will do?""Retreat through the mountains, and threaten to strike at Galicia. That will bring Paskewitch back in double quick time, and Dembinski will have only the Austrians to tackle. Oh, we shall lead them a lively dance yet!""If we aren't caught here," said Dobozy, "which seems rather likely.""I see you are still wearing the baron's ring," remarked Rakoczy, as I rose to go."Yes. I thought it would be as safe on my finger as anywhere else, till I am able to take it to Vienna.""Unless you happen to be badly wounded and left on the field. There are a good many prowlers who would willingly finish you for the sake of a stone like that.""They would be counting without Mecsey Sándor, who follows me everywhere like a dog; but I really must go now. We shall move again at daybreak;" and, bidding my two friends good-bye, I walked across to the general's quarters.The first man I met was Nicholas Szondi, who had just returned from a long ride with Nagy Sándor."Better get a bit of supper and a nap while you've the chance," he said. "We're likely to be off before long.""Anything serious?""Only that the Russian cavalry are close at hand.""Then we're in for another fight?""I expect so, unless the general prefers to run."Taking my comrade's advice, I had some supper; and wrapping my mantle around me, I lay down to snatch an hour's sleep.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE WOUNDING OF GÖRGEI.
"All right, Sándor. It's only a pin-prick; but I've had it bandaged, though the surgeon said 'twas a waste of lint. Rub the horse down, and give it a good feed; there may be fresh work soon."
The battle was over. The army, including Klapka's division, had retired beyond the river, though we still held possession of the bridges. I had just returned from my dangerous ride, and the worthy Sándor had given me up for lost.
I was dead tired, and wrapping myself up cosily, lay down, expecting to fall asleep instantly.
In this I was wrong, for though my eyes closed, I could not make my brain rest.
I thought of my chivalrous brother lying wrapped in his country's flag in the citadel at Buda; I thought, too, of the gallant Rakoczy at Pesth, and wished the old regiment had been in the field that day; but, most of all, my mind dwelt upon the Austrian leader with whom I had been in deadly conflict.
The hussars had retreated too quickly for me to find out if I had killed him.
Somehow I hoped the poor fellow was not dead; though, had the case been reversed, I suppose he would not have wasted a thought on me.
From Von Theyer my mind naturally drifted to the beautiful Theresa, and I wondered how she had borne the news of her bereavement.
At least it would be some comfort when I could restore the baron's memento, and tell how we had buried him in the quiet little churchyard.
My heart grew sadder and sadder as I lingered over the details of this cruel war, which the day's fighting conclusively showed we could not carry to a successful issue.
It was not that a single defeat caused me to despair, but I saw clearly that we had thrown away our chance of victory.
Against the Austrians alone we might even now recover our position, but the arrival of the Russians had made the struggle hopeless.
Even united we should fail now, and we were not united. Envy, jealousy, and distrust had crept into our councils, and every day the breach between the two parties became wider.
Not that I would have you imagine there was more than one party in Görgei's army. We were all of one mind; but the general was hampered by the orders of the Diet, and in addition had to shape his course by the movements of Dembinski.
Thinking over these things, I lay awake till the dawn, when I at last managed to fall into a sound and refreshing slumber.
The days following our defeat at Waag were days of extreme misery. All the time we fell back, pressed by Haynau's victorious troops and their Russian allies, till we reached Raab.
Even here Görgei could do no more than make a feint of defending the place, which delayed the enemy two or three days, while our main army pushed on towards Waitzen.
I now understood more clearly the kind of life Stephen had enjoyed.
Görgei was here, there, and everywhere, directing and encouraging the men, and of course we were with him.
We slept where and when we could, and did not expect dainties--to any great extent, at least--at meal-times. Our banquets were for the most part consumed in the saddle, and consisted of bread or biscuit, cheese, and a drink of wine.
Occasionally the cheese went astray and the wine was missing; then we munched our bread thankfully, and praised the sweetness of the water.
Görgei's spirits never once gave way, though I believe that from the hour of turning our backs on the river Waag he knew in his heart the contest was hopeless.
Careful of his men, he was utterly reckless of his own safety, and several times during the retreat his staff were within an ace of being cut off.
Our old opponent Schlick led the pursuit, being well supported by the veteran Russian division which had caused our defeat on the Waag.
On the morning of the third of July Görgei halted his troops in the forest of Harkaly.
During the previous night he and I, unknown to almost every one, had retraced our steps as far as the village of Acz, which we found occupied in force by the Austrians.
Having by good-luck managed to return safely, the general spent the rest of the night making plans for striking a blow at the dogged Schlick, who seemed to be ever-lastingly hanging on our rear.
I do not know if any one else on the staff went to bed, but I lay down for an hour in the morning, and was wakened by Sándor just before the combat began.
Some of the troops were sent on ahead, where they could be seen by the enemy; while the main body of infantry, with the guns, had been secretly posted in advantageous positions.
The first blow was to be struck by the cavalry, and the various regiments presented a magnificent sight as they waited in the cover of the forest for the word to advance.
The mere notion of a fight had restored the men's spirits. They might be beaten again, but anything was better than the continual running away we had practised for the last fortnight.
Görgei, alert and vigorous, had placed himself at the head; and though we feared for his life, it was impossible not to admire his courage.
He had sent me with a message to General Klapka, and while returning I caught a glimpse of Schlick's corps moving up from Acz through the open country.
Our decoys had served their purpose, and the Austrians, thinking us still in full retreat, swung along merrily.
I hastened to the general, and from the look on his face guessed he had already heard the news.
"Yes," said he; "it's working out nicely. We'll give Herr Schlick a little surprise presently."
And we did.
The affair was over so quickly that I hardly realized it had begun.
At the word of command we issued from the forest, broke into a trot, then a gallop, finally bursting with a loud cheer upon the astonished foe.
The surprise was complete. Before they had time to make a stand they were running away.
Hatless, but unhurt, Görgei pulled up; sent Nicholas Szondi with an order to Klapka; ordered the pursuit to be continued as far as the village of Acz; and rising in his stirrups, took a further survey of the field.
"Botskay," said he quickly, "we must have half a dozen guns planted on those sandhills. See them? Off you go, then, to Benitzky, and don't lose a second."
I put my horse to the gallop, and having found the chief of artillery, delivered my message, and rode back.
At this moment the day was ours. Schlick's corps was routed, our fellows were hot in pursuit, and a few enthusiasts were already dreaming of Vienna.
But we reckoned without the Russians.
Before our artillery could get there, the sandhills were occupied by Russian guns, whose murderous fire sent our cavalry back.
At the same time our cuirassiers dashed forward on the right, and then we saw a body of infantry advancing at the double.
In half an hour the situation had become critical. Nothing could save us but the most desperate effort.
Our general, as usual, rose to the occasion. Placing himself in front of the hussars, he delivered a short but stirring address, and led them against the Russian infantry.
Twice we dashed at them in gallant style, being thrown back each time; the third time, we resolved, should pay for all.
Nicholas Szondi and I rode on either side of the general, who once more gave the word to charge.
Away we went in the midst of a cloud of bullets, while our ranks were ploughed by shot and shell.
A man somewhere behind me dropped, and his frightened horse, breaking from the ranks, rushed to the front.
With a cry of pain the colonel of the regiment fell, but I afterwards heard that the gallant fellow used what strength he had left to urge on his men.
Crash! It seemed too good to be true, but we really had driven the charge home; and the riderless horse, the first to make a gap, was lashing out furiously with its heels.
Görgei was the first man inside, but Nicholas Szondi and I followed closely, while it seemed as if the whole regiment was treading on our heels.
The Muscovite soldiers fought gallantly enough, but I think they would not have lasted other ten minutes, when a terrible misfortune happened to us.
The general, as I before remarked, was fighting like a common trooper, and several Muscovites had already felt the weight of his arm, when, suddenly slipping from his saddle, he fell to the ground.
Instantly I jumped down and ran to him, while Szondi and Mecsey Sándor, who, unknown to me, had joined in the charge, kept off a crowd of foot-soldiers.
I raised Görgei in my arms. His face was covered with blood; he was quite insensible, or dead.
A trooper came to my assistance, and between us we lifted him to his saddle.
All this time Nicholas Szondi and Sándor fought like demons in order to preserve breathing space, and by the time we got the general on his horse they were joined by several others.
The trooper held Görgei while I remounted, then Szondi joined me, and between us we cut our way through the press.
The news of the disaster quickly spread, and the hussars, disheartened by the loss of our gallant leader, drew off from the fight.
On the other hand, the Muscovites, imbued with fresh spirit, redoubled their efforts; the infantry resumed their advance, firing volley after volley into our retreating ranks.
Görgei made neither sound nor movement. He sat huddled up just as we placed him, and but for our support would have fallen helpless.
Szondi looked at me questioningly, but I shook my head. It was impossible for either of us to tell the extent of the mischief.
We rode fast till we were out of the line of fire, and I then suggested to my comrade that he should seek Klapka.
"He is in command now," I said, "and should be told at once."
Szondi nodded, and asked if I could manage alone; but the faithful Mecsey, who was close behind, volunteered to take his place.
This he did; and while Szondi galloped off to find Klapka, we proceeded with the general.
Everywhere now the battle was over, and the Muscovites had again saved their allies from destruction.
But our men retreated in fairly good order, and it was evident that, although Görgei had fallen, the army still possessed a capable chief.
Halfway through the forest the surgeons had set up an ambulance, and thither we took the general.
"Görgei?" cried the chief surgeon, when I told him what had occurred.
"Here, Moritz! Take him gently--so. Now let us see. Plenty of blood, at all events. Bring me some water. Open his jacket, Moritz, and see if the heart beats. Yes? That takes a load off my mind. Now to find the wound. Ah! I thought so.--Don't look so scared, Captain Botskay: the general will be all right in a fortnight or so. The blow has made him senseless for a time, but there ought not to be any real danger. I would let the soldiers know, if I were you; 'twill raise their spirits."
I started at once to find General Klapka, and on the way spread the welcome intelligence far and wide.
The men cheered as heartily as if we had gained a brilliant victory; for they looked on Görgei not only as a general, but as a personal friend, and there were few amongst them who would not willingly have given their lives to save his.
General Klapka was busy directing the retreat, but he found time to question me closely about his wounded chief, and was unaffectedly glad on hearing the surgeon's report.
"Görgei is just the one man Hungary cannot afford to lose," he said in his mild way, and turned again to his duties.
Having failed to stop the pursuit, the only course open to us now was to fall back upon the entrenched camp before Comorn, and this Klapka at once set about doing.
By nightfall we had completely abandoned the forest of Acz, and the vanguard had taken up a strong position several miles eastward.
I did not see Görgei again till the last man had turned into the camp at Comorn, as Klapka kept me pretty busy during the march; but I heard from time to time he was progressing favourably, and that the doctors had no doubt of his recovery.
It was strange to see him lying in his tent, his head bandaged, his face white and bloodless, his body still.
"Ah, Botskay!" said he, smiling, when I went in the first time, "I have to thank you. Szondi's been here and told me all about it. Lucky for me that I took you away from Rakoczy, eh?"
"Szondi had as much to do with it as I, general--more, in fact, for he kept the Russians off while I picked you up. There's a trooper, too, who--"
"Klapka saw to him--made him a sergeant. There's your man as well; what of him? Would he like to have the stripes?"
I shook my head smilingly. To be a sergeant, Mecsey would have to leave me, and this I was sure he would not do.
"Never mind!" exclaimed the general. "I'll find some means of doing him a good turn. He's a fine fellow, and not over free with his tongue. Well, it seems likely you'll soon meet Rakoczy again."
"Is the old regiment coming to join us?" I asked eagerly.
"No," said he; "but we are rapidly making our way back to Pesth," and he looked at me with a faint smile.
"We shall turn westward again soon," I exclaimed; but he shook his head with the air of a man who had no wish to disguise the truth from himself.
The very morning after this conversation a rumour crept through the camp, though no one seemed able to trace its origin, that Field-Marshal Paskewitch, driving Moritz Perczel's troops before him like a flock of sheep, had entered Debreczin in triumph. In the men's presence the truth of the story was contemptuously scouted, but before night the officers of the staff were made aware that for once rumour had not lied.
The great Russian army, under its famous chief, had captured Kossuth's stronghold--the headquarters of Hungarian republicanism.
This was a serious blow, and I did not wonder that our leaders looked grave.
With Paskewitch at Debreczin, and Haynau forcing us back upon Pesth, we were awkwardly placed, the more especially as we could only look to ourselves for help.
But this peril was absolutely trivial compared with the astounding information that Nicholas Szondi brought me one morning. I had been out all night seeking news of the enemy's movements, and was breakfasting alone, when my new crony joined me.
"Glad to see you busy," he said chaffingly.
I finished the steaming coffee made by the worthy Sándor, and nodded.
"General better this morning?" I asked.
"Much. Able to walk about and give directions. Can't ride yet, though; can't stand the jolting. Going to have another smack at the Austrians in a day or two--at least that's what he intended; but I suppose it won't come off now."
"Why not?" I asked curiously.
"Ah!" exclaimed my comrade eagerly, "I thought you hadn't heard the news. Count Beula's in the camp."
"Well?"
"Comes from the Diet, or Kossuth--one and the same thing, I fancy--with a letter or proclamation, or whatever you call it. Expected to find Dembinski here, it appears."
"You make a first-class story-teller, Szondi, only you're in such a dreadful hurry to get to the end. Still, the narrative's wonderfully exciting, so far."
"Keep your chaff, old fellow. You'll find the finish exciting enough."
"There is an end then? That's something to be thankful for."
Szondi took no notice of the interruption, but continued steadily,--
"This Count Beula, then, arrived last night, expecting to find the Pole; but of course we knew nothing of Dembinski."
"Not likely."
"He made himself very agreeable, and we had a pleasant evening."
"While I was sitting on my horse's back for hours, like a dummy!"
"Well," said Szondi, without even a smile, "that wouldn't be such hard work--for you."
"Not half as difficult as listening to this story."
"The story? Ah! I'm just coming to the climax. What do you think was in the letter that Beula brought for Dembinski?"
"One of Kossuth's brand-new bank-notes."
"Don't talk rubbish, Botskay. The letter is an official document proclaiming Dembinski commander-in-chief, in succession to Arthur Görgei, deposed."
"What?"
"Thought you'd get interested at the finish," said he, laughing harshly.
"How have they wrapped it up?"
"You may be sure they've sugared the pill nicely. His wound's the excuse, and he's to be made war minister, or something of that sort."
We looked hard at each other, and I saw my own thoughts reflected in Szondi's eyes.
"All right," said he. "I can tell we're both in one mind, and we'll find a good many others to join us."
"All the staff for certain."
"And every man in the army. Dembinski, indeed!"
"What does Klapka say?"
"He'll stick to Görgei through thick and thin; so will Nagy Sándor. I'm off now. See you again this evening, and tell you more about it."
Szondi's news soon spread amongst the officers, causing the greatest consternation.
To remove Görgei was to take away the very life and soul of the army. To replace him by the Pole would be rank folly.
As the day wore on, I became convinced that unless the Diet--or Kossuth, as rightly or wrongly the officers would have it--withdrew the order, there would be mischief.
Towards the end of the afternoon Szondi came to take me to a meeting of the staff.
"The fellows are furious," he said, "and want to sign a paper refusing to serve under any one but Görgei. What's your idea?"
"I'll put my name down fast enough."
"So will the others. Then we'll take it to Klapka, and he'll bring Kossuth, or whoever the mover of the affair is, to reason. Here we are at Mizvy's tent."
The discussion which took place was rather monotonous, as every one spoke on the same side, and the keynote was that Görgei should not go.
After that Mizvy drew up a counter-proclamation, and I, being the youngest officer present, was invited to sign first, which I did. The others appended their signatures, and then Mizvy was deputed to carry the document to General Klapka, and explain matters.
"The general is sure to be with us," said one man, "but, if he needs stiffening, tell him there isn't an officer in the army who wouldn't gladly put his name to the paper."
"Nor a soldier either," added a second man.
"That will make some of them draw long faces over at Pesth," said Szondi gaily. "I don't think we shall hear much more of Dembinski as commander-in-chief."
Szondi was right. The Diet, interviewed by the two generals, Klapka and Nagy Sándor, saw it had gone too far; and Görgei was restored to his rank, almost without knowing he had been deprived of it. But the more I looked at the incident the less I liked it.
Görgei was the great chief to whom all who did not wish separation from Austria looked for guidance; and the attempt to take him from the army showed very clearly the wide gulf between the two sections of the Hungarian nation.
Meanwhile, matters were becoming very serious in all parts of the country.
In the south, Bern, who seemed to grow stronger after each defeat, still made headway against the enemy, but elsewhere our prospects were cheerless.
Field-Marshal Paskewitch was making a military promenade with his army, and it was likely that we should soon be crushed between him and Haynau.
Certainly our entrenchments were very strong, and every day--for Görgei had a great belief in pick and spade--made them stronger; but they could not keep out Haynau and the Russians.
The chief was still prevented by his wound from riding about; but he had long and anxious talks with Klapka, and it was finally decided we should make one more attempt to defeat the Austrians before Paskewitch could send them help.
It was the tenth of July when this decision was made, and none of the staff went to sleep that night till everything had been put in trim for the approaching conflict.
CHAPTER XVIII.
GÖRGEI FORGETS HIS WOUND.
"It's make or break to-day, Botskay. Of course we shall keep on fighting, but unless our fellows smash Haynau up our chance is gone."
Szondi and I were standing behind Görgei on a piece of rising ground from which we could obtain a view of the battle. The chief's face showed how annoyed he was at having to remain behind, and I nudged my comrade, who shrugged his shoulders.
"Wound or no wound," he whispered, "if the fight goes against us you'll see him in the thick of it. Look! He's waving his hand to the hussars we charged with the other day. They'd be glad to have him at their head now."
Our hearts beat high as the cavalry passed in numerous bodies, our hopes being largely placed on these gallant fellows.
Klapka had posted twenty batteries in the forest of Harkaly, and it was his plan, or rather Görgei's, by a combined attack of infantry, horse, and artillery, to break the Austrian centre, and push it back beyond the village of Czern.
It was nine o'clock in the morning when the infantry moved out, and very soon we heard the thunder of the heavy guns.
This was the beginning; I asked myself what would be the end. The soldiers knew how much depended on their exertions, and I judged by their set faces that the enemy would have all their work cut out to beat them.
Görgei stood looking intently through his glass, occasionally giving a smile of satisfaction as the troops took up their positions.
"It ought to answer," he muttered. "Upon my word, I believe we shall beat them; Klapka's handling his men beautifully. They want more guns, though, on the right. Szondi, tell Benitzky to move some of his guns to the edge of the forest.--Botskay, ride to General Klapka, and wait to see what happens in the centre. Come back the instant he drives the Austrians from the village.--Mizvy, tell Prince Leiningen to hold--"
I did not hear the rest, being already on my way to General Klapka.
The battle was now in full swing, but the thick volumes of smoke made it difficult to see what was going on.
Soon I met wounded men dropping to the rear, and from one of them gathered that the Austrian centre was getting a terrific pounding.
"They'll have to go, captain," said the man. "Flesh and blood can't stand it much longer."
After giving him a drink from my flask, I rode on, finding myself at length amongst Klapka's staff.
I delivered my message to the general, who said smilingly, "I don't think you will have long to wait;" and turning to one of his officers, he sent him off somewhere with an order.
Everything around me was bustle and excitement. Men came and went in endless succession, and almost without a pause.
One young fellow, whose horse's nostrils were laced with foam, dashed up at a gallop, and saluted with his left arm, his right being shattered by a musket-ball.
The general said something to him, but he shook his head, smiled gaily, and was off again in spite of his broken limb.
Meanwhile the fight in the centre was fast approaching a crisis.
That the Austrians would break I felt sure, my only wonder being how they had managed to hold out so long.
Shot and shell made gaps in their ranks, a fearful musketry fire swept them away in scores, while hussars and dragoons thundered down upon them almost without intermission.
As the wounded Magyar had said, flesh and blood could not stand it much longer, and Klapka's keen eye saw that the critical moment had arrived.
Another officer darted off like lightning; and we, looking on, saw our cavalry draw up in one immense body.
We could not hear, but we knew they were cheering, and then we watched them move forward.
Walk, trot, gallop! It was a superb spectacle as the sun shone down on the beautiful horses, the forest of glittering swords, the lithe and muscular horsemen.
We held our breath as they flew over the ground, and in our intense excitement almost felt the shock as they crashed into the enemy.
So certain was the result that I asked Klapka's permission to follow, knowing how eager Görgei would be to learn every detail.
As I expected, that last charge broke the Austrian centre through and through; and the men who had stood up so bravely against the pick of our army were thoroughly beaten.
Back they went, helter-skelter, anyhow--men and guns and horses all mixed together!
Here half a company; there part of a squadron; yonder a field-gun, the horses clattering and tearing along like mad.
Back they went pell-mell into their lines, into the village, and through it; at which I turned my horse's head, and rode, cheering like a maniac, to Görgei.
"Make or break," Szondi had said. Well, we were made, and the Austrians were broken.
Good little horse! On you go, straight as the crow flies. Never mind obstacles. We'll think of these to-morrow; for we're carrying good news, my beauty.
Cheer, my lads! You have the right. There's the general! How pleased he will be at the news!
I dashed up, breathless, while my horse trembled all over.
"Czern is ours, sir!" I panted. "The Austrians are in flight!"
There were several officers near, but my head was so dizzy that I could scarcely distinguish them.
One, whom I took to be Szondi, then helped me to dismount.
The ride, the excitement, and possibly an accidental blow, though I could not remember one, had made me feel quite strange.
The men around me became shadowy figures, their conversation mere disjointed scraps, such as, "Klapka--key of position--pay for Acz--Vienna--next to Görgei," which I heard without understanding.
Then Szondi put a flask to my lips, and I took a deep draught of something which stopped the shivering in my limbs, and enabled me to stand firm.
A messenger had arrived from Klapka. He was telling the story of the Austrian flight, but with more detail, and our general's face beamed with delight.
Some of the officers had disappeared; others remained; and these, like the general, were filled with joy.
Into the huge gap which I had seen made our fellows were pouring at the double, and the battlefield rang with shouts of victory.
I had put my arm through the bridle, and stood leaning against a hillock of sand, waiting for the next order.
Suddenly there came the sound of a report so tremendous that the earth shook, and we gazed at one another aghast.
Again and again it broke forth, while the field was hidden from sight by dense curtains of thick smoke.
At a word from the general Szondi darted off, but almost before he had gone a mounted officer dashed up to us.
He came from Klapka, and told his tale briefly.
Every man and every gun of the Austrian reserve, every man and every gun of the Russian division, had been flung across the path of our victorious columns.
Eighty pieces of cannon were vomiting death; thousands of rifles were pouring deadly volleys into our vanguard.
What the Austrians had suffered during the earlier part of the morning our people were suffering now, only on a more fearful scale.
Yet we gathered from the messenger that they had not retreated a foot, though it was impossible for them to advance.
Our sole hope now lay in Prince Leiningen and the reserve which he commanded.
Klapka had already sent to him, and now Szondi returned with the information that the prince was advancing with reckless bravery against the Austrian left.
Görgei could no longer contain himself. Go forward he must; go forward he would; and if his wound burst out afresh and killed him, as the doctors feared, well--he would not be the only man to die!
I jumped into the saddle and went with the others.
The awful cannonade continued without intermission, and every man who had ever seen a battle felt his heart sink at the thought of the havoc it was committing.
But we did not altogether ride without hope. Another messenger had found the general to tell him that the gallant Leiningen had broken the Austrian left, and we cheered the news heartily.
The story of the fight, as it thus came to us piecemeal, was a succession of ups and downs.
Ill news, it is said, travels apace; and hardly had we finished cheering when a fresh officer brought word that the Russians, by a sharp manoeuvre, had trained their guns on our reserve, and were decimating it.
Perhaps it was as well that those who forced us to waste those precious weeks before the arrival of the Russians were not on the battlefield outside Comorn.
At the Waag, at Acz, and now here, the Muscovites had actually snatched victory from our grasp.
As we plunged together into the conflict the soldiers caught sight of their gallant leader, and for a moment ceased fighting, while they rent the air with shouts of "Görgei! Görgei!"
Had it been possible to save the battle, the presence of this one man would have accomplished the feat; but it was not.
The men died willingly enough, but they could not advance in face of those awful guns.
In vain our artillerymen worked at their batteries like slaves, vainly footmen and cavalry threw themselves against the solid mass; they came back every time baffled, broken, and in sadly-diminished numbers.
Of my personal share in the fight there is little to tell.
Görgei, forgetful of his wound, threw himself into the thick of it, and where he went I followed.
Now we charged at the head of a shattered remnant of a cavalry regiment; again we were in the midst of an infantry square, encouraging the men to stand firm; then we were making a desperate attempt on a battery.
The staff had their fill of fighting for once, but to no avail.
Even Görgei acknowledged the truth at last, and reluctantly gave the order to withdraw.
We were fairly beaten, but not routed; and the enemy had been too severely handled to follow up their success.
Taking our wounded, we retired slowly, the men, in spite of their terrible punishment, being unwilling to leave the field.
I had lost sight of Szondi in the heat of the conflict, but he returned later to the entrenchments unhurt, save for an odd scratch or two of little account.
Fortune had dealt less kindly with several of our comrades, and we missed more than one familiar face.
"That's the worst bout I've ever been in," said Szondi. "I thought at one time not a man would come out alive."
"We might as well have stayed out there," said Mizvy gruffly. "The game's up."
"Oh, come!" I cried cheerfully. "It surely isn't as bad as that!"
"Well, my young wiseacre, if you can show me one single loophole, you've more brains than I ever gave you credit for."
There was a laugh at this, but Mizvy went on sulkily, "We can't stay here--that's certain; and where are we to go? It will take 20,000 men to garrison Comorn, and what's Görgei to do with the rest? Fight Haynau and Paskewitch together?"
"There's our army in the south," I began, but Mizvy pulled me up.
"Army in the south!" he echoed scornfully; "why, Bern, brave old fellow as he is, can hardly hold his own head above water!"
"But there's Dembinski. He'll make a big effort to join us."
Mizvy looked at me with a grin. "Dembinski's off to Szegedin with the Diet," he said. "It's a handy place to slip over into Turkey from, when the crash comes."
Several of the officers cried "Shame!" but Mizvy took this mark of displeasure with admirable coolness.
"All right," he said quietly. "But just wait till any of those fellows venture north."
"What then?" I asked, laughing.
"Why, then you can sew me up in a sack and drop me into any river that's handy!"
"We'll do that with pleasure," said Szondi. "But there's the general beckoning to you."
Mizvy took himself off, but he left an unpleasant sensation behind him.
He was a level-headed man, with plenty of shrewd sense, and having no prejudices to warp his judgment.
I am not sure that personally he cared the toss of a button for either Görgei or Kossuth, the constitution of '48, or independence; but he was a thorough soldier, and did care very much about beating the enemy.
In his eyes, a man's chief if not sole merit lay in his ability to win battles, and I remember hearing him more than once unfold his pet theory about the treatment of generals.
Mizvy had little sympathy with unsuccessful leaders, and his scheme would hardly have proved popular amongst men of weak minds; yet, as Szondi often pointed out to scoffers, promotion would become rapid.
The foundation of the theory was that no responsible officer should ever be beaten; if he so far forgot himself, the authorities were to have him shot, and give his command to another.
"Cruel?" growled Mizvy, when a listener offered that objection. "Not half as cruel as the present system. It would soon weed out all the duffers, and the peacocks, whose only idea of soldiering is to strut about in gold lace. Now, here's a fellow--goodness knows where he comes from, but he has influence; give him a brigade, and set him to do something. Back he comes in a day or two with a handful of men; the enemy has accounted for the others. He wouldn't do that trick often, if you shot him the first time. Think a second duffer would want to fill the vacancy? Hardly. None but the best men would try to get the pick of the berths in my army, I can tell you."
Mizvy was not exactly popular with his fellows, but he was a man whose opinions claimed some attention, and his remarks concerning our allies were far from comforting.
We did not dream for an instant, of course, that any of them would be frightened, but at the same time there were various little matters concerning which we felt doubtful.
Nicholas Szondi summed up the case very clearly.
"There's no question of Bern's courage," he said, "or of Dembinski's either; but we needn't pretend they're in love with Görgei, or he with them. Now, if we joined forces--and that's the only way to save Hungary--we should only want one chief."
"Well, Görgei isn't likely to yield his command to the Poles."
"Just so; and they won't be too eager to serve under him. That's where the difficulty lies."
"If old Mizvy's plan were in working order," said one man lazily, "'twould save a lot of bother at present."
"We certainly shouldn't suffer from having too many generals."
Szondi agreed laughingly. "Görgei and Klapka look very solemn over there."
"They're discussing the new plans, and it's my belief we shall find Mizvy wasn't far out in his forecast."
That same night our general told us he had resolved on retreating to Waitzen with a portion of the army, while Klapka, with 76 guns and 18,000 men, was to throw himself into Comorn.
I now learned that one Austrian army corps was marching straight on Pesth, from which our troops had withdrawn, and I looked forward with pleasure to again meeting my old friends of the 9th Honved regiment.
Since joining the staff I had not heard from Rakoczy, but as there had been no fighting at the capital I concluded he was still alive and well.
Early on the morning succeeding the stubborn fight we said farewell to our friends in Klapka's division, and before it was really light began the march.
Two days later, having picked up various bodies of troops on the route, we halted a few hours' distance from Waitzen.
Here the 9th Honveds were assembled, and as soon as the general had finished with me, I rushed off to find Rakoczy.
I really don't know which of us was the more pleased at the meeting, though the genial colonel could not forego his chaff, and pretended it was a great honour to receive a visit from one of the staff. Then he took me into his tent and sent for Dobozy, from whom I had another warm welcome.
"The accounts from the front frightened us a bit," said Dobozy. "We began to think you would have been better off in Pesth."
"Been pretty warm, hasn't it?" asked Rakoczy. "But there, you shall tell us all about it. You must be getting pretty used to playing a losing game by now, eh?"
"Still, I don't know that I like it any better than at first. By the way, have you seen Count Beula lately?"
"Cleared out the same time as Kossuth. Paid you a visit at Raab, didn't he?"
"Yes, with a proclamation from the Diet in his pocket. But I had better begin at the beginning, and tell you the story properly."
"Much better. Make yourself comfortable. You may be sure of an interested audience, though a small one."
He was right in that remark, for both he and Dobozy listened most attentively, only interrupting by an occasional exclamation.
"You certainly can't complain of having been dull yonder," said Rakoczy at the finish.
"Did you kill that Von Theyer fellow?" asked Dobozy.
"I hope not, though I'm afraid he got a nasty slash across the face."
"Pity that, being a handsome sort of chap. 'Twill spoil his beauty."
"In that case," said the colonel, "our friend Botskay must take care of himself. This Von Theyer, though a splendid soldier, is vainer than any woman, and he won't easily forgive the man who disfigured him."
"Aren't we getting on a bit too fast? The fellow may be dead and buried, for aught I know. When our troopers came back from the Russian guns, they didn't give me too much time for investigation."
"That Russian division seems to be the mainstay of the army."
"It has been, so far; but now tell me what you've been doing in Pesth."
"Putting the regiment straight again," said the colonel.
"And forming guards of honour," added Dobozy. "We've had a very pleasant and agreeable time."
"A wonder you left."
"We had such very pressing invitations to leave that the colonel could hardly refuse. The Diet, you know, has gone to Szegedin with the army of the north."
"Yes. We heard that."
"Well, directly Haynau had you beaten up yonder, he sent an army corps hot-foot for Pesth. At the same time Paskewitch dispatched a Russian corps from the east, and we thought it time to move."
"How was it you didn't go south with the others?"
"Because, fortunately, we had orders to join Görgei here."
"Shall we make a stand at Waitzen?"
The colonel shook his head. "May stay for a bit of a fight," he replied. "Nothing more."
"Then what do you think Görgei will do?"
"Retreat through the mountains, and threaten to strike at Galicia. That will bring Paskewitch back in double quick time, and Dembinski will have only the Austrians to tackle. Oh, we shall lead them a lively dance yet!"
"If we aren't caught here," said Dobozy, "which seems rather likely."
"I see you are still wearing the baron's ring," remarked Rakoczy, as I rose to go.
"Yes. I thought it would be as safe on my finger as anywhere else, till I am able to take it to Vienna."
"Unless you happen to be badly wounded and left on the field. There are a good many prowlers who would willingly finish you for the sake of a stone like that."
"They would be counting without Mecsey Sándor, who follows me everywhere like a dog; but I really must go now. We shall move again at daybreak;" and, bidding my two friends good-bye, I walked across to the general's quarters.
The first man I met was Nicholas Szondi, who had just returned from a long ride with Nagy Sándor.
"Better get a bit of supper and a nap while you've the chance," he said. "We're likely to be off before long."
"Anything serious?"
"Only that the Russian cavalry are close at hand."
"Then we're in for another fight?"
"I expect so, unless the general prefers to run."
Taking my comrade's advice, I had some supper; and wrapping my mantle around me, I lay down to snatch an hour's sleep.