The Strange Story of Rab Raby Part 45

Several of the judges could not restrain their tears. Tarhalmy hid his face in his hands; was it that he could not face the prisoner?

Raby's last words rang with such intense sincerity that not one of those present had dared to interrupt his speech. Laskoy was the only one to speak when the accused had ended his defence, and all he said was, "Take the prisoner away!"

"I appeal then against the judgment of the court," said Raby as he was being led out.

"That is permitted; meantime, he who is under sentence of death must be heavily ironed till the hour of execution."

"Against that likewise I protest," said Raby firmly. And they led him out and called for the prison locksmith.

CHAPTER XLI.

Up till now, Raby had been rigidly fettered, in that his right hand had been fastened to his left foot, while another chain had bound his left hand to his right foot. Now as an addition to this came the whole equipment involved in "heavy irons." Two chains, consisting of six iron rings linked together, weighing in all about a quarter of a hundred weight, were now produced for the prisoner.

These fetters were no longer fastened, as the lighter ones had been, with a padlock, but were to be rivetted on an anvil, so that they could only be sawn asunder when taken off.

For the operation the prisoner was led into the yard of the a.s.sembly House, much to the excitement of the townspeople who gathered to witness so unusual a spectacle, including all the women-folk. They were aghast at seeing a young and richly clad gentleman being loaded with heavy irons. In such a scene the crowd is on the side of the criminal, and they were now.

When they saw Raby forced to sit down on the paving-stones, and heard him groan with pain as his already fettered ankle received the first stroke of the heavy hammer on the anvil, a cry burst from the bystanders, and they could not restrain their indignation.

"Poor fellow! What has he done to deserve it?" they asked, and the women wept freely. One of them took off her kerchief, and, kneeling down beside him, was fain to bind it round the ankle-bone, so that the iron should not cut it too severely, but the gaoler sternly thrust her away.

"What do condemned criminals want with that sort of thing, you stupid?

Away with you and your silly feelings. Would you have his fetters lined with velvet? He'll soon get accustomed to them, I'll warrant you."

And he brutally tore the kerchief off Raby's ankle.

When at last the work was done, the prisoner had to rise. But this was easier said than done, for with his fettered hands and feet, he was almost powerless to move. Small wonder he fell back in the attempt.

Janosics laughed aloud.

But it is no laughing matter when a man in irons tries to walk.

Meantime, the women became more sympathetic than ever with the prisoner, and openly railed at the heydukes.

"You murderers! It is a sin and a shame to treat him thus! And such a pretty gentleman too! If we were only men we would soon teach you gaolers to mend your manners. Why you are worse than the Turks themselves."

"Drive the women out of the yard," cried Janosics furiously, "and then let us be getting on, for the cage is ready for the bird."

And some of the heydukes promptly drove out the women, while the rest looked after Raby. In one of them, who helped him to rise, Raby recognised the man who had brought him the pitcher with the false bottom when he was in prison. The man also evidently pitied him in his stumbling efforts to drag one foot before the other, and showed him how he could best do it by carefully measuring each step forward. But the pain of the irons which had already begun to cut into his flesh, was well-nigh unbearable, and it was with the greatest difficulty he staggered to the cell prepared for him--a small damp dark hole with a little grated orifice for air through which the falling snow was drifting.

No stove warmed the frozen depths of his dungeon, but there was a huge stake in the wall to which was affixed an iron chain: to this the fetters of the prisoner were made fast, so that he could stir no further than the small tether it allowed, and had to lie or crouch day and night in the heap of straw, which was his only bed. An earthen pitcher and a wooden bowl held respectively the drinking water and black bread which were to last him a week, for having provided them, they needed not to trouble further for some days about the inmate of the cell. And there was no pitcher this time with a false bottom!

Now Raby was to know what it meant to be a captive indeed.

CHAPTER XLII.

Poor Raby, he was a prisoner in such surroundings that they would have served for the wildest page of romance. No sound came to him from the outer world, as he lay there chained to the blank wall in his living grave--the underground dungeon whose door no key opened. Yet for all this he was not forgotten.

In the deathlike stillness of the night he heard what sounded like a noise of scratching in the roof of his cell, as if someone were trying to bore through the ceiling.

All at once the sound ceased, and from above he heard a well-remembered voice: "Poor Raby!" it murmured.

At the sound, a thrill of joy shook the prisoner, in spite of his fetters; it spoke to him of life and hope.

"Can you hear me?" asked the voice.

"Perfectly," answered Raby.

"Trust in G.o.d, He will deliver you, He will not let you be lost. If to-morrow you hear a sound of knocking, give heed. Good-bye."

Then there was again stillness. But Raby slept in his heavy fetters rocked by that hope, as peacefully as a child in its mother's arms.

When he awoke at daybreak, it seemed like a dream, till he was reminded of its reality by a light tapping on the ceiling of his cell.

And then, just over his head, there appeared a long hollow cane thrust down from a small aperture in the roof, and it came lower and lower till it reached his fettered hands.

"Have you got it?" asked the voice. "If so, open it carefully."

Raby carefully opened the sealed end and found a minute phial of ink, and an equally slender pen made from a crow's feather. Round it was rolled a sheet of paper.

"Write, and I will wait to take it," said the voice, and the prisoner, as might be imagined, was not long in obeying the request of his unseen monitress. Carefully and minutely, in spite of his fettered hand, he traced on the paper a letter to the Emperor, telling him all that had happened, and in the relief of giving this welcome vent to his feelings, he forgot his wretched surroundings. When it was done he rolled up the paper, tucked it in the cane, and pushed it up again through the ceiling.

On the evening of the next day he heard the voice again: "Dear Raby, take courage. Your letter has gone to Vienna by the Jew Abraham."

Raby's heart warmed at this news, it would mean at the most only a week more of his present captivity--and for that time he had bread and water enough.

Meantime, before the said week came to an end, his Excellency the governor sent for Mr. Laskoy.

"We are in a nice quandary, my friend, and you will have to get us out of it; hear what has happened," and his Excellency paused as if to emphasise what was to follow. "Three days after Raby was imprisoned, the Emperor summoned me to Vienna. I went as fast as posts could carry me, to hear, as his first question: 'What have the authorities done with Raby?'

"I told him that Mathias Raby had already had a fair hearing before the magistracy, but that owing to a dangerous sickness which had suddenly overtaken him, he was now in the hands of the doctor, pending being confronted with his accusers. The Emperor did not interrupt me, but when I had done, out he comes with a letter written by your prisoner in spite of his irons and fast barred door, setting forth his grievances to his master in very plain terms. And I can a.s.sure you he didn't spare either of us."

Laskoy was petrified with amazement. "That means," pursued his Excellency, "that Raby has found ways and means of writing to the Kaiser from his dungeon. When I had read the letter through, the Emperor said: 'Mark my words, if Mathias Raby is not released from prison by the day after to-morrow (you will be back in Pesth by then), I shall give orders that his custodians be themselves arrested and put in the Dark Tower for the rest of their lives on bread and water. So you see what you have to reckon with, and the best thing you can do is to set the prisoner free at once.'"

The lieutenant did not want urging, he rode to the prison in hot haste, and demanded to see the head-gaoler. No sooner had Janosics appeared, bearing his huge bunch of keys, than Laskoy sprang at him straight away like a wild cat, seized him by the ears, and banged his head against the door unmercifully, till the keys rattled again in his hands.

"Take that for your pains," he cried, "I'll teach you how to look after your prisoners! What do you mean by letting Raby write to the Emperor from his dungeon?"

The castellan was dumbfoundered with pain and amazement. "All I can say is, your worship," he cried, rubbing his head, "that Raby must be in league with the Devil."