King Matthias and the Beggar Boy Part 7

To tell the truth, he felt more confused than grateful; for the new-made n.o.ble, the private of the Black Legion, had just so much delicacy of feeling that he was much more flattered by the king's treating him seriously than he would have been by jests and teasing.

For the moment he could not get out a word. There was a mist before his eyes; and after a long pause--for the king himself was touched by the effect of his words--the young man came to himself, and dropping upon one knee said, "Your Highness has made a man of me, and I trust in G.o.d that you will never, never repent it!" Few and simple words, but the king was so well pleased with them, and so confirmed in his previous opinion, that at that moment he would have dared to trust the boy with the command of the castle of Visegrad.

A week later, after a battle in which Michael had taken part, Matthias made the boy an officer in the famous Black or Death Legion--so called from the colour of its armour and the skull-like shape of its helmets--which was under the command of the king himself.

CHAPTER VII.

SENT TO PRISON.

It would be interesting, no doubt, if we could follow Michael's career step by step; but the next two years of his life must be pa.s.sed over very briefly.

It was true that the king had made a man of him, and already Tornay was a marked personage--a man whose name was often in people's mouths, and well known in the army as a rising young general.

There was plenty of work for the Black Legion in those days; for the Turks were perpetually invading the southern provinces, and the Hungarians were left to fight them almost single-handed--though, as the king reminded Louis the Eleventh of France, "Hungary was fighting for all Christendom," as she had been doing for many a long year past.

Michael had distinguished himself more than once for his courage, and for a daring which amounted at times to actual foolhardiness, and now he had outdone his previous exploits by the gallant rescue from extreme peril of General Rozgonyi.

The general was cut off from his men, and absolutely alone in the midst of a band of Turks, when Michael made a bold dash into their midst, scattering them right and left, and succeeded in extricating himself and Rozgonyi from their clutches.

It was a bold exploit and a rash one--madly rash, indeed--but it was successful; and as Michael rode back to his men, wounded, but not seriously so, he was received with loud applause; and perhaps, if the truth must be told, he felt himself something of a hero.

But the king, who had watched him with much anxiety, was considerably provoked; and when the battle was over, he summoned him to his tent, where Michael found him sitting alone and looking very much more grave than was his wont.

He raised his eyes when Michael entered, but his voice sounded stern, and instead of saying "thou" to him as he usually did, he addressed him quite formally.

"Mr. Tornay," said he, "you have been behaving like a madman, like a common soldier whose horse has such a hard mouth that he can't control it; or--you must have been pouring more wine down your throat than you ought to have done."

King Matthias had a great horror of drunkards, and did his best to stop all excessive drinking in the army and elsewhere.

But Michael was utterly taken aback. He had been a good deal flattered and complimented, and had quite expected that the king was going to thank him for saving the general's life, or at least would show that he was well pleased with him, and give him a few of those words of approval which he valued above everything. To be received in this way was rather crushing.

"Sir--Your Highness," he stammered, in great surprise, "I was only doing my duty."

"That is precisely the very thing you were not doing," said the king with some warmth, his large dark eyes flashing as he spoke. "You are a general; you were in command, and you left your troops in the lurch, as St. Paul left the Wallachians.[10] You rushed among the Turkish spahis entirely alone, and to what, as far as you could tell, was certain death, like a man who was weary of his life, his king, and his duty.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself; and understand that what may be meritorious in a private is worse than cowardice in the officers."

[Footnote 10: A common saying. St. Paul is supposed to have lost patience with them.]

Tornay was so thunderstruck that he could not find words to defend himself.

"Speak!" said Matthias, in a tone of displeasure. "We wish to hear what you have to say in your defence; it is not our custom to punish any one without hearing him."

"Sir--Your Highness," said Tornay, with gentle deference, but with the manner of one who has an easy conscience, "I did not think I was guilty of cowardice in going to the rescue of one of your best generals!"

"G.o.d be thanked that you were successful!" said the king, "but it is more than you had any right to expect. The fact is that it was vanity which led you to risk your head in an experiment which was not merely hazardous, but so desperate that there was hardly the remotest reasonable hope of success; and vanity under such circ.u.mstances is cowardice. I honour courage; as for insane foolhardiness, it belongs not to the knight but to the highwayman."

Tornay listened abashed, and though much hurt he felt that Matthias was right.

"I should have a great mind to punish you," the king went on, "but that one of my best generals owes his life to your folly, so for his sake I pardon you."

"What can I do?" said the young man in a low voice--"what can I do to regain Your Highness's favour? I can't live if I know that Your Highness is angry with me--me who owe everything, all that I am, to you."

"Always be on your guard, my little brother," said the king; and now, seeing how distressed he was, and wishing to comfort him, he spoke in the kind, pleasant voice which won all hearts. "Do only what you can give a right and satisfactory reason for, and then you will never miss the mark."

So Michael went back to his quarters comforted, and promising himself to lay the king's simple advice well to heart.

There was a grand banquet at the court that night, and many of the great n.o.bles were present; but Miska did not venture to show himself, though when once the king had given a reprimand and made the delinquent understand what he thought of his conduct, his anger was over and done with, and he spoke in his usual kindly way again. Miska thought, however, that by thus punishing himself he should soften him.

After all, as he reflected, the king was right: it was the thought of making a soldier's name for himself which had led him to run into such obvious danger. And yet he had a reason to give for what he had done--a good reason too, he had thought; for he had considered that his life belonged to the king, who had given him his career and all that made his life of any importance. And so he had resolved with himself never to trouble his head about risk and danger, when he had an opportunity of proving his fidelity to the king.

But now, as he turned over in his mind the advice which the king had given him, he began to see things a little differently.

"My life belongs to the king, it is true," thought he, "and I must be ready to sacrifice it whenever there is any reason to do so; but just _because_ my life is the king's, I have no right to throw it away."

From that time Tornay tried to make himself more and more useful to the king, by learning all that he could of his profession.

The courage of a private was not enough--it was not what was wanted of him, now that he was an officer in command; and he felt that the courage which made a man strive to acquire the knowledge necessary to those in his own position--generals and commanders, that is to say--was courage of a higher, n.o.bler sort than that which led to deeds of mere daring. Of course the courage of the private was also needful--quite indispensable, indeed, in every soldier, officer or not, who must always be ready to sacrifice his life if need be; but he strove to acquire besides the cool courage which does not let itself be carried away by excitement, which can listen to the sound of the trumpets and the din of battle without being intoxicated, which remains calm and collected, retains its presence of mind, and is capable of seeing and hearing, and, above all, of thinking for others, even when the issue looks most doubtful.

For a general has to remember that he is not merely an individual; he is that, of course, but he is a great deal more--he is the head of a body which depends upon him for guidance. He must not play only his own game, or be thinking only or chiefly of the bold, brave deeds he can do on his own account; he must practise the most stern self-restraint. And he must not think of gratifying his own vanity or desire of distinguishing himself; he must think of those under his command--he must be unselfish.

Hitherto, Michael's one thought when he went into battle had been the enemy, and how much damage he could do him. He had eyes for nothing else, and he was eager to give proof of his own personal valour; but now he began to accustom himself to resist this consuming thirst for action, and to restrain his longing to rush madly into the fight, for he was learning that he must not think only of himself.

When the army was drawn up in battle array, fronting the enemy and all ready for action, the young soldier would begin to ask himself what he should do if the king were presently to give orders, as he might some day, that he, Michael, was to take the chief command and lead the army to battle.

And then his blood would boil, his eyes would flash, and he felt an almost irresistible longing to dash forward and do some valiant deed.

But now he controlled and recovered himself, and repeating to himself the king's words, would say, "Now, Mihaly, how could you do such a thing? what reason could you give for it?"

He began to scrutinize the ranks of the enemy in a much more scientific way, reminding himself that he was not now a private, or even a subaltern officer, in the Black Legion, but a general, whose duty it was to think, not of bold ventures, but of sober plans. This gave quite another turn to his mind, and he felt how much higher and fairer a thing it was to think of others and direct others, and to keep one's presence of mind intact and one's blood cool, when youthful zeal made others lose their heads.

So thinking to himself one day, as he and the men under his command stood facing the enemy, waiting for the signal to advance, he was keeping his eyes upon the opposite ranks, when all at once he observed something that till now had escaped his notice.

"The enemy is remarkably weak in the left wing yonder," he reflected, "and there is a long marsh just in front; I don't think I should be afraid of being attacked from that quarter. If I were in command," he went on, "I would order one division to advance in that direction and outflank the enemy. This would throw him into confusion. Then I would send part of the cavalry forward, and while the enemy's attention was engaged by the sudden attack on his wing, I would fall upon his centre with my whole force."

"Really," the young officer said to himself, "I should like to tell His Highness what I think."

Michael scribbled something in pencil upon a sc.r.a.p of paper, and sent one of the Black Knights off with it to the king, who was inspecting the ranks, and was now riding down the left wing of the army, surrounded by a brilliant staff, himself more simply attired than any of those about him.

The king read over the crooked lines with not a little astonishment, and for a moment his face flamed.

Then he cried out in lively tones, "Upon my word, advice is becoming from a twenty-years-old general! This man will be somebody one of these days."

Then on the margin of the paper he wrote just these two words--"_Do it!_"