The Golden Age in Transylvania Part 35

"They have done even more, my lord. They have forced their way into your wife's sleeping-room, used the portrait of the gracious lady as a target and disfigured it horribly."

"What! the portrait of my wife!" cried Banfy, laying his hand on his sword. "The portrait of my wife did you say?" he repeated, with flashing eyes. "Ah," he cried, tearing his sword from its sheath and turning his face upward with an expression never before seen on it. He was like an exasperated tiger in chains, with bloodshot eyes, thick swollen veins in his brow and bloodthirsty lips.

"May G.o.d have mercy on them!" he cried out in a fearful voice, and throwing himself on his horse rode out to his troops.

"My friends," he cried, before he reached the ranks, "a swarm of hornets has fallen on my castle and plundered it. They have destroyed everything in my rooms, cleared my stables, robbed my family treasures; but I care not for that, let them gorge their fill, let them have what they never knew before, let them steal me even, I should still be master and even after this robbery, with one hand could pay off all these beggarly Szekler princes. But they have abused the portrait of my wife--of my wife! And I will have my revenge for it--a frightful revenge! Follow me. The trees in the garden at Bonczida have not borne any fruit for some time now but they shall bear some."

The general battle-cry of the troops showed that the army was ready to follow Banfy. The leaders drew up their men in ranks and the trumpet had sounded the second time when a company of twelve hors.e.m.e.n came in sight of Banfy's army. In the central figure they recognized the herald of the Prince, a broad-shouldered man of giant size who rode up to Banfy and the officers around him, and said:

"Halt!"

"We are halting. If you have eyes you can see," said Michael Angyal.

"In the name of his Excellency the Prince I summon you, Dionysius Banfy, to appear in three days before the court in Karlsburg to defend yourself in legal form against the indictment found against you. Until that time your wife remains in custody, as hostage for your deeds."

"We will come," replied Michael Angyal. "You can see for yourself that we were on the point of starting out only we did not know until now which way to go."

"Still, my lord captain!" said Banfy. "One should not use mockery with a messenger from the Prince." The messenger turned then to the officers:

"This summons does not concern you. For you I have another message to give in the name of the Prince."

"You may keep it to yourself or I will say something to you that will make your ears tingle," sneered the captain, aiming his pistol at the herald.

"Down with your pistol!" Banfy called out to him. "Let him give the Prince's message. Give him opportunity to speak freely."

The herald straightened himself in his saddle and surveying the soldiers said in a loud voice:

"The Prince forbids you to give further obedience to Banfy; any man that takes up weapons for him is a traitor to his country."

"That's what you are yourself," growled Michael Angyal.

The next moment the disorganized troops had turned with rage and threats toward the herald: a hundred swords flashed at the same time above his head.

"Stop!" said Banfy, in a thundering voice and at the same time standing before the herald. "The life of this man is sacred and inviolable. Keep your places. Let no man put his hand to his sword. I order you--I, your leader."

"Three cheers!" shouted the brigades, and at the word of command formed in ranks and stood like a wall.

"You will not bear me ill-will," said Banfy to the herald who had turned pale, "that these men have this once more obeyed me. Go back to your Prince and tell him that I will appear before him within three days."

"We will be there too," shouted the captain. The herald and his retinue moved away. Banfy dropped his head in deep thought. The trumpet sounded, for the banners were unfurled, but Banfy still stared into s.p.a.ce, speechless, heavy-hearted and gloomy.

"Draw your sword, my lord," Angyal said to him. "Put yourself at our head and let us start, first for Bonczida, and then for Karlsburg."

"What is that you say?" said Banfy. "What do you mean?"

"Why, that since the law has expressed itself by the sword, the sword shall be our defence."

"Such a case at law would be called civil war."

"We did not start it: neither shall we add fuel to the flame."

"It is no longer a war against my personal enemies but against the Prince, and he is the head of our country."

"And you are his right hand. If they are going to light the torch of war in the country it shall not be extinguished in your blood."

"And why should my blood flow for that? have I committed a capital crime? can anybody accuse me of such?"

"You are powerful and that is reason enough to kill you."

"It is all the same to me. I will go and what is more, alone. My wife is in their hands. They have it in their power to make me suffer their vengeance. If there were no other reason for my appearing, to set her free is my duty as a knight."

"With weapons you can set her free more easily, and also yourself."

"I have nothing to fear. I have never done anything for which I need blush in the sight of the law. Even if they should intrigue against me, still stay here, summon my troops at Somlyo and throw yourself into the breach there when injustice is practiced against me."

"Oh, my lord, the army is worth nothing when its leader has surrendered himself. To-day it would still go through fire for you and be ready to hail you as Prince; but to-morrow if it should learn that you had obeyed the summons it would disband and deny you."

"You must not tell any one of my intention. I will take a carriage at once and drive to Karlsburg; you tell the troops that I have gone to Somlyo to collect the rest of my army; keep them together under good discipline, till news of me comes."

With that Banfy rode off to Klausenburg, while Michael Angyal sullenly sheathed his sword and proclaimed to the troops that they might go to rest in case they were tired.

An hour later we see Banfy in a carriage drawn by five horses, rolling along the way to Torda. A servant on horse led by the bridle a saddle-horse. The farther Banfy separated himself from the seat of his power the greater his anxiety became; his soul was irresolute and he began to see spectres brought nearer by every step forward. Pride alone kept him from changing his purpose. Everything seemed to him different from what it had formerly been. He thought he read the feelings toward him of those whom he met, in their faces and forms of greeting; if anybody smiled he thought it was from pity, if the greeting was sullen he saw hatred. Now he stopped and questioned all those with whom he had even the slightest acquaintance; people whom he formerly deemed unworthy of a glance or else looked down upon.

Misfortune recalls to the memory of men the faces of acquaintances, and a man who once would have even repelled the hand-shake of a friend now extends his hand to a foe while yet afar off.

Suddenly he saw that an open carriage was coming toward him from Torda, and that the one seat was occupied by a man wrapped in a grey duster, in whom Banfy as he rode past recognized Martin Koncz, the Bishop of the Unitarians. He called to him to stop a moment. The Bishop on account of the noise of the wheels did not hear him, took off his hat and drove on. Banfy considered this an intentional avoidance and looked upon it as a bad omen. The man who once had borne all perils so lightly now shrank back before every fancy of his brain.

He ordered his carriage to stop, mounted his horse and told his coachman to drive on to Torda and wait for him there. Then he galloped after the Bishop's carriage. When the Bishop saw him riding up he had his carriage stopped, while Banfy breathlessly shouted from a distance:

"So then you will not enter into conversation with me?"

"At your good pleasure, my lord; I did not know that you wished to speak with me."

"You know already what has happened to me, I suppose. What do you say to it? what ought I to do?"

"In such a case my lord, it is as difficult to give advice as it is to receive it."

"I have determined to obey the summons."

"As you say, my lord."

"I certainly have nothing to fear. I feel the justice of my cause."

"It is possible that you are in the right my lord, but you will hardly receive justice for that reason. In the world of to-day everything is possible."

Banfy caught the allusion. He had once used the same words to the bishop and now he had not sufficient strength of soul to withdraw proudly, but allowed himself to continue the discussion.

"It is true the Prince is my enemy, but the Princess has always defended me and I can put confidence in her character."