CHAPTER I.

MR. SAMSON'S CASTLE.

Towards the close of a gloomy day in autumn, a very dusty traveller was riding quietly up to a castle which stood perched on a height in one of the northern counties of Hungary. A very extraordinary-looking castle it was, if it was a castle at all, which one might be inclined to doubt; for it looked more like a square block hewn by giants out of the ribs of the mountain, and left to itself for centuries, until its walls had become mouldy and moss-grown. One thing which gave it an odd appearance was that, as far as could be seen, it had no roof; the fact being that it was built round a quadrangle, and that the roof, or rather half-roof, sloped downwards and inwards from the top of the outer walls.

But what was even more remarkable still was that the building had neither door nor window in any one of its four sides; so that how the inhabitants, if there were any, ever went in or out, was quite a mystery.

People had had a good deal to say about the owner of this extraordinary stronghold for many a year past, and all sorts of wild stories were told of him. But no one but his own hired servants and men-at-arms had ever set eyes upon him--so far as they knew, that is to say.

Neither he nor his servants were ever to be seen coming or going, and how they managed was quite unknown; but for all that they made their presence felt, and very unpleasantly felt too.

The man on horseback had drawn nearer by this time, and was gazing up at the huge pile, scanning it carefully, but quite unable to discover so much as a chink or cranny in the grey, weather-beaten walls.

At last he shook his head and said with a smile, "Why, the castle is in such a strong position and so well fortified that it must be almost impregnable! But of course it is inhabited, and the inhabitants are human beings, not demons; and wherever human beings can dwell, human beings must also be able to enter.

"Well, I am here at last! and little enough Mr. Samson guesses what manner of visitor has come so close to his hiding-place. I am glad I came, for it is always best to see with one's own eyes. And now that I am here, the next thing is how to get in. Let us look and consider. No use," he continued, after a moment or two; "I can't think of any way. If I could only see some one, a living creature of some sort, to make inquiries of! Nonsense! I'll wager I know more about the nest than any one hereabouts.

"But still, I have been six hours on horseback, and as far as the eye can see there is no wayside inn or public-house or even farm-house in sight, and a man can't help being tired even if he be a vice-count--or more! Well, let's be going on," he went on, putting his horse once more in motion.

The young man before us was of middle height and strongly built, with fiery dark eyes, and curly chestnut hair; he was very plainly clad, and his horse was no better caparisoned than if it had belonged to some son of the _puszta_, or steppes.

Quietly, and with eyes and ears both on the alert, he rode round the height on which the fortress stood.

"If I don't see anything," he said to himself with a laugh, "they don't see me; let's be off!

"Eh, and yet I should be glad if I could come across a human being of some sort, if he were no bigger than the rowel of my spur.--Hi! hi there, _foeldi_ [countryman]," cried the horseman all at once, as he caught sight of some one trudging along the road round the shoulder of the hill.

The wayfarer thus addressed turned and came up to him, and as soon as he was within speaking distance he said in humble tones, "_Uram_ [sir], I am hungry; I have not eaten a morsel to-day. Have pity on me, _kegyelmed_[1] [your grace]."

[Footnote 1: A common form of polite address in Hungarian.]

Then he cast a glance, not altogether devoid of envy, at the dainty horseman, who was so comfortably clad, and who looked, to judge by his countenance, as if his hunger had been well satisfied.

"Here," said the rider, giving the beggar a small coin; for the boy attracted him, and he thought to himself that he could hardly ever remember to have seen a face with such a peculiarly taking expression. Moreover, in spite of the mud and dirt with which his skin was incrusted, it was impossible not to be struck by his fine features, which were of a purely Oriental type, and lighted up by a pair of large dark eyes as black as the raven's wing.

The man on horseback had given the lad a trifle on the spur of the moment, because he looked so poverty-stricken; but a second glance made him fancy, rightly or wrongly, that he was not a beggar of the common sort, to whom people give careless alms because he stirs their pity for the moment. This beggar excited something more and better than mere pity--at least in the man before us. Some people, it is true, might not have noticed the expression of the lad's face; but to those who had eyes it told of something more than poverty and distress. It was not the look of the beggar who is content to be a beggar, who would rather beg than work, rather live upon others than labour for himself. One might almost fancy, indeed, that the lad was ashamed of his present plight, and rather indignant with things in general for not providing him with some better employment.

The horseman was one well accustomed to reading character, and rarely mistaken in his judgment; and being touched as well as favourably impressed by the boy, it suddenly occurred to him that he might be turned to account.

"Just answer me a few questions, my boy, will you?" said he. "Can you write?"

"No, I can't; I have never had any teaching."

And, indeed, writing was a by no means general accomplishment in the reign of the good King Matthias, when many of the first nobles in the land could not even sign their own names. But still there seem to have been elementary schools not only in the towns but in other places as well, so that the question was not altogether unreasonable.

"Then you can't read either?"

"Of course not; as if it were likely!"

"Have you ever been in service?"

"Never, sir, thank Heaven; but I have worked as a day-labourer."

"Why don't you turn soldier?"

"Because my head is worth more than my arms," said the beggar: "besides, they wouldn't take such a ragged chap as I."

"Are you to be trusted, I wonder?"

The boy looked up at the speaker at this, and then answered with an air of wounded pride, "I have not had a good meal for a fortnight, yet I have not stolen so much as a plum from a tree. You may trust me with a purse full of money."

"Well, _oecsem_[2] [little brother], it is possible you may be a regular rascal, for anything I know to the contrary at present; but you have a good face, and I should like to see such a head as yours on many a pair of shoulders which are covered with gold and marten-fur. Well, I don't care! I am going to trust a good pair of eyes and a clear forehead. Listen, boy. I like you. Stand here before me, and let me see what you have got in you, gossip! for if you hold good measure, you have been born under a lucky star, I can tell you."

[Footnote 2: A common way of addressing younger persons.]

"You can amuse yourself in return for the money you have given me," said the boy, looking repeatedly at his gift; "you may take my measure as much as you like, and I will be looking at the horse meantime. Ah! you are a lucky man to have such a horse as that. How he snorts! and his eyes flash as if he were Jatos[3] himself."

[Footnote 3: A magic horse.]

"Boy!" said the horseman, who looked as if he were at least a vice-count--"boy, you are up to the mark so far; there is room for good measure in you, and a few pints over! But, _koma_ [gossip], I have often seen a good-looking cask full of nothing but bad, sour wine. Let us see whether you hold one full measure."

"One measure?" said the beggar, offended. "I shouldn't be my father's son if my wretched skin did not cover a man of a hundred measures, especially when I have had a good dinner. It's a couple of weeks now since I have had a stomachful when I lay down at night."

"My little brother," said the horseman, "a fellow who is ruled by his stomach is not worth a farthing. You have lost three measures out of your cask by that foolish speech."

"Ha," said the beggar boldly, "my stomach grumbles badly, and it is no joke when it goes on for long. However, it's no wonder you can't guess what it feels like to be hungry, for I daresay you are a hall-porter, or even maybe a poultry-dealer, and such people as those are always well fed."

The horseman laughed. "You have got the cow's udder between its horns now, koma; but whatever and whoever I may be, I am a great man while my purse is full, and so listen to me. Do you see that castle there?"

"To be sure."

"Have you ever been inside?"

"Well, to be sure, I am well off, I am! but may the Tatars catch me, if I would take my teeth in there!"

"Hm!--and why?"

"Why?" asked the beggar, considering; "I really can't tell you. But what should take me there? Besides--well, they say it is inhabited by demons, and that they live on Jews' flesh. The Jews are constantly going there, just as if they had been invited to dinner; but they get eaten up."

"Simple Stevie of Debreczin!"[4] cried the horseman. "Do you believe such nonsense?"

[Footnote 4: "Simple Stevie" is said to have been a student in the college of Debreczin, where he was notorious for his simplicity.]

The beggar grinned. "What would you have?" said he. "People say a great many things of all sorts, and a fellow like me just believes and blunders along with the rest! If His Grace in there does live on Jews' flesh, I wish him good health; but for my own part I had rather have a little bit of chicken than roast Jew."

"Now, boy, listen. Just look there," began the horseman again: "if you can get into that castle and bring me word again how the world wags there, you shall have a hundred gold ducats in your hand."

"A hundred ducats!" cried the beggar. "Why, I could buy a whole county with that, surely!"

"Not so much as that, little brother," said the rider; "but still it is a great deal of money!"

"And who will give it me?" asked the beggar, looking eagerly at the horseman.

"I myself," he answered. "But I am slow to believe people, and so I want first to know whether I can trust you."

The boy still had his eyes turned towards the castle. "Thunder!" said he presently, "the devil himself doesn't get in there by the proper way. But just wait a moment, sir, and let me think a little. So they don't live on Jews' flesh in there, eh, sir?"

"To be sure not! I fancy they live on something better than that."

"But still the Jews do go in and out--at least so people say, and what is in everybody's mouth is half true at all events."

"Right; but what then?"

"Why, I'll be a Jew, and go in, if they don't eat people up."

"But how?"

"I don't know yet. Give me a little time, or I shall not be able to hit upon it."

"Of course. And now listen. Before I trust you blindly, I am going to prove you." He drew a sealed letter from his breast, wrote a few lines on the back with a pencil, and went on: "See this letter? Make haste with it to Visegrad; ask for admission, and say merely that you have brought the governor a letter from his son. Do you quite understand? But I don't know your name; what is it?"

"Tornay Mihaly [Michael Tornay]," answered the boy; and then went on, "I see! what is there difficult about that? I quite understand: you are the son of the governor of Visegrad, and you are sending a letter to your father."

"Right!" said the horseman. "You will come straight on to Buda with the answer, and ask at the palace for Mr. Galeotti, and give it into his hands. You won't forget the name?"

"Galeotti," repeated the boy. "But will they let me in, in such rags?"

"You will get proper clothes and a horse in Visegrad."

"A horse!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes sparkling. "I have never done anything more than help a coachman to swim his horses now and then, and now I shall have a horse myself!"

"For service, gossip; and don't you go off with it!"

The beggar's face was all aflame. "Am I a horse-stealer," he cried, "just because your elbows don't show through your dolmany, while my clothes are so full of holes that twenty cats together would not be able to catch one mouse in them?"

"Don't be angry," said the horseman, who was more and more pleased with the boy every moment. "Here, as a sign that I put more trust in some people's faces than I do in other people's written word--here is a purse of money. And now hurry off; you have no time to lose. The sooner you bring back the answer, the more faith I shall have in you."

The boy stared at the purse, and being very hungry, poor fellow, it seemed to him to be full of ham and sausage.

"You must be an estate-manager," he gasped, "or--a bishop, to have so much money."

"What does that matter to you?" answered the horseman. "Make haste, and I shall see whether you are a man of your word."

The lad raised his tattered cap, and the next moment he was out of sight.